INDIANS  OFTHE 
PAINTED  DESERT  REGION 

GEORGE  WHAKTON  JAMES 


BANCROFT  LIBRARY 

O 

THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 


ELEANOR  ASHBY  BANCROFT 
1903-1956 

Graduate  of  the  University  of  California  with  the 
degree  of  B.A.  in  history,  1926,  and  the  Certificate 
of  Librarianship,  1938.  Associated  with  the  Ban- 
croft Library  for  36  years  as  student  assistant, 
reference  librarian,  and  Assistant  to  the  Director, 
Mrs.  Bancroft  attained  wide  recognition  as  a  bibli- 
ographer and  an  authority  on  the  history  of  Cali- 
fornia and  the  West.  In  remembrance  of  a  warm 
and  genial  personality,  and  of  long  and  devoted 
service  to  scholarship,  this  gift  is  presented  by  her 
friends. 


The    Indians 

of 

The  Painted  Desert  Region 


WORKS   BY 

<£couflr  SiLlljarton  James 


IN  AND  AROUND  THE  GRAND  CANYON  OF  THE 
COLORADO  RIVER  IN  ARIZONA. 

THE  INDIANS  OF  THE  PAINTED  DESERT  RE- 
GION. 

THE  MISSIONS  AND  MISSION  INDIANS  OF 
CALIFORNIA. 

INDIAN  BASKETRY. 


The  Indians 

of  the 

Painted  Desert  Region 

Hopis,    Na<vahoes,    ff^allapais^ 
Havasupais 

By 

George  Wharton  James 

Author  of  "In  and  Around  the  Grand  Canyon,"  etc. 


With   Numerous   Illustrations  from   Photographs 

Boston 
Little,   Brown,  and  Company 

1903 


Copyright,  1903, 
BY  EDITH  E.   FARNSWORTH 


All  rights  reserved 
Published  October,  1903 


UNIVERSITY    PRESS    •     JOHN    WILSON 
AND    SON       •        CAMBRIDGE,     U.S.A. 


To  my  Wife 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

INTRODUCTORY xiii 

CHAPTER 

I.    THE  PAINTED  DESERT  REGION i 

II.    DESERT  RECOLLECTIONS 10 

III.  FIRST  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  HOPI 29. 

IV.  THE  HOPI  VILLAGES  AND  THEIR  HISTORY  ...  44 
V.    A  FEW  HOPI  CUSTOMS 66 

VI.    THE  RELIGIOUS  LIFE  or  THE  HOPI 82 

VII.    THE  HOPI  SNAKE  DANCE 102 

VIII.    THE  NAVAHO  AND  HIS  HISTORY 124 

IX.    THE  NAVAHO  AT  HOME 138 

X.    THE  NAVAHO  AS  A  BLANKET  WEAVER  .     .     .     .  160 

XI.    THE  WALLAPAIS  . 172 

XII.    THE  ADVENT  OF  THE  WALLAPAIS 188 

XIII.  THE  PEOPLE  OF  THE  BLUE  WATER  AND  THEIR 

HOME 199 

XIV.  THE  HAVASUPAIS  AND  THEIR  LEGENDS  .     .     .     .  209 
XV.    THE  SOCIAL  AND  DOMESTIC  LIFE  OF  THE  HAVA- 
SUPAIS      220 

XVI.    THE  HAVASUPAIS'  RELIGIOUS  DANCES  AND  BELIEFS  248 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 265 


ILL  USTRATIONS 


In  the  Heart  of  the  Painted  Desert Frontispiece 

A  Son  of  the  Desert Vignette  on  Title 

In  the  Heart  of  the  Petrified  Forest  ....  Facing  page  xvi 

A  Freak  of  Erosion  in  the  Petrified  Forest  .  .  "  "  2 
Journeying  over  the  Painted  Desert  to  the 

Hopi  Snake  Dance ...  "  «  2 

Ancient  Pottery  dug  from  Prehistoric  Ruins  on 

the  Painted  Desert "  "  8 

The  Painted  Desert  near  the  Little  Colorado 

River "  "  16 

Asleep,  Early  Morning,  on  the  Painted  Desert  "  "  16 
The  Colorado  River  at  Bass  Ferry,  the  Vam- 
pire of  the  Painted  Desert "  "  22 

Hano,  (Tewa)  from  the  Head  of  the  Trail  .  .  "  "  34 

Hopi  Women  building  a  House  at  Oraibi  .  .  "  "  38 

Mashonganavi  from  the  Terrace  below  ...  "  "  38 
The  Trio  of  Metates,  and  Hopi  Woman  about 

to  grind  Corn "  "  42 

Mashongce,  an  Oraibi  Maiden,  drying  Corn 

Meal "  "  42 

An  Oraibi  Woman  shelling  Corn  in  a  Basket 

of  Yucca  Fibre "  "  50 

The  •*  Burro  "  of  Hopi  Transportation  ...  "  "50 
A  Hopi,  weaving  a  Native  Cotton  Ceremonial 

Kilt "  54 

An  Aged  Hopi  at  Oraibi "54 

An  Admiring  Hopi  Mother "  60 

An  Oraibi  Basket  Weaver "  "  60 

A  Hopi  Girl,  Oraibi "  "  68 

Shupela,  Father  of  Kopeli,  Late  Snake  Priest 

at  Walpi "  "  68 

Hopi  Children,  at  Oraibi,  waiting  for  a  Scramble 

of  Candy "         "76 


x  ILLUSTRATIONS 

Group  of  Hopi  Maidens  at  Shungopavi  .  .  .  Facing  page  82 
Hopi  Woman  weaving  Basket,  her  Husband 

Knitting  Stockings "  "  88 

Hopi  Woman  preparing  Corn  Meal  for  making 

Doughnuts "  "  88 

Hopi  "Boomerangs" "  "  96 

Hopi  Ceremonial  Drums "  »'  96 

Blind  Hopi  Boy,  Knitting  Stockings  ....  "*  "  100 

A  Hopi  Belle  at  Shungopavi "  "  100 

The  Beginning  of  the  Hopi  Snake  Dance, 

Oraibi,  1902 "  "  102 

The  Chief  Antelope  Priest  depositing  Pahos  at 

the  Shrine  of  the  Spider  Woman  ....  "  "  106 
Throwing  the  Snakes  into  the  Circle  of  Sacred 

Meal "  "  106 

Line-up  of  Snake  and  Antelope  Priests,  Ante- 
lope Dance,  Oraibi,  1902 "  "  no 

The  Snake  Dance  at  Oraibi,  1902 "  "  114 

The  Snakes  in  the  Kiva  at  Mashonganavi,  after 

the  Ceremony  of  Washing "  "  1 18 

After  taking  the  Emetic.  Hopi  Snake  Dance  at 

Walpi «  "122 

Hopi  Prayer  Sticks  or  Pahos "  "126 

Navaho  Silver  Necklace  and  Belt "  "126 

An  Old  Hopi  at  Oraibi "  "131 

An  Aged  Navaho,  looking  over  the  Painted 

Desert "  "131 

Hopi  Ceremonial  Head-dresses "  "134 

Hopi  Bahos  and  Dance  Rattles "  "134 

A  Mashonganavi  Hopi,  going  to  hoe  his  Corn  "  "  140 

Kapata,  Antelope  Priest,  at  Walpi  ....  "  «  140 
The  Antelope  Priests  leaving  their  Kiva  for  the 

Snake  Dance "  "146 

The  Widow,  Daughters,  and  Grandchildren  of 

the  Navaho  Chief,  Manuelito "  "146 

The  March  of  the  Antelope  Priests,  Oraibi,  1902  "  "  156 

Wife  of  Leve  Leve,  Wallapai  Chief  ....  «  "156 

An  Aged  Navaho  and  her  Hogan "  "  1 70 

Navaho  Family  and  Hogan  in  the  Painted 

Desert "  "170 


ILLUSTRATIONS  xi 

Navaho  Woman  on  Horseback Facing  page  176 

The  Winner  of  the  "  Gallo"  Race,  at  Tohatchi .  «  "      176 

Wallapai  Maiden  and  Prayer  Basket  .     ...  "  "      188 
A  Wallapai,  making  a  Meal  on  the  Fruit  of  the 

Tuna,  or  Prickly  Pear "  "      188 

Tuasula,  Wallapai  Chief "  "196 

Susquatami,  Wallapai  War  Chief "  "196 

Havasupai  Fortress  and  Hue-gli-i-wa,  or  Rock 

Figures "  "      206 

A  Wallapai  Woman  pounding  Acorns     ...  "  "      210 
Chickapanagie's  Wife,  a  Havasupai,  parching 

Corn  in  a  Basket "  "210 

A  Family  Group  of  Havasupais "  "216 

Havasupai  Mother  and  Child "  "216 

Lanoman's  Wife,  a  Havasupai "  "      230 

Waluthanca's  Daughter,  with  Esuwa,  going  for 

Water "  "230 

Sinyela,  with  Esuwa,  going  for  Water      .     .     .  "  "      256 
Rock  Jones,  Leading  Medicine  Man  of  Hava- 
supais   "  "      256 


INTRODUCTORY 

WILD,  weird,  and  mystic  pictures  are  formed  in 
the  mind  by  the  very  name  —  the  Painted 
Desert.  The  sound  itself  suggests  a  fabled  rather  than 
a  real  land.  Surely  it  must  be  akin  to  Atlantis  or  the 
Island  of  Circe  or  the  place  where  the  Cyclops  lived. 
Is  it  not  a  land  of  enchantment  and  dreams,  not  a  place 
for  living  men  and  women,  Indians  though  they  be  ? 

It  is  a  land  of  enchantment,  but  also  of  stern  reality, 
as  those  who  have  marched,  unprepared,  across  its 
waterless  wastes  can  testify.  No  fabled  land  ever  sur- 
passed it  in  its  wondrousness,  yet  a  railway  runs  directly 
over  it,  and  it  is  not  on  some  far-away  continent,  but  is 
close  at  hand ;  a  portion,  indeed,  of  our  own  United 
States. 

In  our  schoolboy  days  we  used  to  read  of  the  Great 
American  Desert.  The  march  of  civilization  has 
marched  that  "  desert "  out  of  existence.  Is  the  Painted 
Desert  a  fiction  of  early  geographers,  like  unto  the 
Great  American  Desert,  to  be  wiped  from  the  map  when 
we  have  more  knowledge? 

No  !  It  is  in  actual  existence  as  it  was  when  first  seen 
by  the  white  men,  about  three  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago, 
and  as  it  doubtless  will  be  for  untold  centuries  yet  to 
come. 

Coronado  and  his  band  of  daring  conquistadors,  pre- 
ceded by  Marcos  de  Niza  and  Stephen  the  Negro, 


xiv  INTRODUCTORY 

reaching  out  with  gold-lustful  hands,  came  into  the 
region  from  northern  Mexico,  conquered  Cibola  — 
Zuni  —  and  from  there  sent  out  a  small  band  to  inves- 
tigate the  stories  told  by  the  Zunis  of  a  people  who 
lived  about  one  hundred  miles  to  the  northwest,  whom 
they  called  A-mo-ke-vi.  The  Navaho  Indians  said  the 
home  of  the  A-mo-ke-vi  was  a  Ta-sa-un'  —  a  country 
of  isolated  buttes — so  the  Spaniards  called  the  peo- 
ple Moki  (Moqui)  and  their  land  "  the  province  of 
Tusayan,"  and  by  those  names  they  have  ever  since  been 
known. 

Yet  these  names  are  not  the  ones  by  which  they  des- 
ignate themselves  and  their  land.  They  are  the  Hopi- 
tuh,  which  Stephen  says  means  "  the  wise  people,"  and 
Fewkes,  "  the  people  of  peace." 

It  was  in  marching  to  the  land  of  the  Hopituh  that 
the  Spaniards  designated  the  region  "  el  pintado  desierto." 
And  a  painted  desert  it  truly  is.  Elsewhere  I  have 
described  some  of  its  horrors,1  for  I  have  been  familiar 
with  them,  more  or  less,  for  upwards  of  twenty  years. 
I  do  not  write  of  that  of  which  I  have  merely  heard,  but 
"  mine  eyes  have  seen,"  again  and  again,  that  which  I 
describe.  I  have  been  almost  frozen  in  its  piercing 
snow-storms;  choked  with  sand  in  its  whirling  sand- 
storms; wet  through  ere  I  could  dismount  from  my 
horse  in  its  fierce  rain-storms ;  terrified  and  temporarily 
blinded  by  the  brilliancy  of  its  lightning-storms;  and 
almost  sunstruck  by  the  scorching  power  of  the  sun  in 
its  desolate  confines.  I  have  seen  the  sluggish  waters 
of  the  Little  Colorado  River  rise  several  feet  in  the 
night  and  place  an  impassable  barrier  temporarily  before 
us.  With  my  horses  I  have  camped,  again  and  again, 
1  "  In  and  Around  the  Grand  Canyon." 


INTRODUCTORY  xv 

waterless,  on  its  arid  and  inhospitable  rocks  and  sands, 
and  prayed  for  morning,  only  to  resume  our  exhausting 
journey  in  the  fiercely  beating  rays  of  the  burning  sun ; 
longing  for  some  pool  of  water,  no  matter  how  dirty, 
how  stagnant,  that  our  parched  tongues  and  throats 
might  feel  the  delights  of  swallowing  something  fluid. 
And  last  year  (1902),  in  a  journey  to  the  home  of  the 
Hopi,  my  friends  and  I  saw  a  part  of  this  desert  covered 
with  the  waters  of  a  fierce  rain-storm  as  if  it  were  an 
ocean,  and  the  "  dry  wash  "  of  the  Oraibi  the  scene  of  a 
flood  that,  for  hours,  equalled  the  rapids  of  the  Colorado 
River.  We  were  almost  engulfed  in  a  quicksand,  and  a 
few  days  later  covered  with  a  sand-storm ;  all  these  ex- 
periences, and  others,  in  the  course  of  a  few  days. 

Stand  with  me  on  the  summit  of  one  of  the  towering 
mountains  that  guard  the  region  and  you  will  see  such 
a  landscape  of  color  as  exists  nowhere  else  in  the  world. 
It  suggests  the  thought  of  God's  original  palette  — 
where  He  experimented  in  color  ere  He  decided  how 
to  paint  the  sunset,  tint  the  sun-kissed  hills  at  dawn, 
give  red  to  the  rose,  green  to  the  leaves,  yellow  to  the 
sunflowers,  and  the  varied  colors  of  baby  blue-eyes,  vio- 
lets, portulacas,  poppies,  and  cacti;  where  He  con- 
cluded to  distribute  color  throughout  His  world  instead 
of  making  it  all  sombre  in  grays  or  black. 

Look!  here  is  a  vast  flat  of  alkali,  pure,  dazzling 
white,  shining  like  a  vivid  and  horrible  leprosy  in  the 
noon-day  sun;  close  by  is  an  area  of  volcanic  action 
where  a  veritable  "  tintaro  "  —  inkstand  —  has  overflowed 
in  devastating  blackness  over  miles  and  miles.  There 
are  pits  of  six  hundred  feet  depth  full  of  black  gun- 
powder-like substance,  gardens  of  hellish  cauliflowers 
and  cabbages  of  forbidding  black  lava,  and  tunnels 


xvi  INTRODUCTORY 

arched  and  square  of  pure  blackness.  Yonder  is  a 
mural  face  a  half  thousand  feet  high  and  two  hundred 
or  more  miles  long.  It  is  nearly  a  hundred  miles 
away,  yet  it  reveals  the  rich  glowing  red  of  its  walls, 
and  between  it  and  us  are  large  "  blotches "  of  pinks, 
grays,  greens,  reds,  chocolates,  carmines,  crimsons, 
browns,  yellows,  olives,  in  every  conceivable  shade,  and 
all  blending  in  a  strange  and  grotesque  yet  attractive 
manner,  and  fascinating  while  it  awes.  It  is  seldom 
one  can  see  a  rainbow  lengthened  out  into  flatness  and 
then  petrified ;  yet  you  can  see  it  here.  Few  eyes  have 
ever  beheld  a  sunset  painted  on  a  desert's  sands,  yet  all 
may  see  it  here. 

It  is  a  desert,  surely,  yet  throughout  its  entire  width 
flows  a  monster  river;  a  fiendish,  evil-souled  river;  a 
thievish,  murderous  river;  a  giant  vampire,  sucking  the 
life-blood  from  thousands  of  square  miles  of  territory 
and  making  it  all  barren,  desolate,  desert.  And  this 
vampire  river  has  vampire  children  which  emulate  their 
mother  in  their  insatiable  thirst.  Remorselessly  they 
suck  up  and  carry  away  all  the  moisture  that  would 
make  the  land  "  blossom  as  the  rose,"  and  thus  add 
misery  to  desolation,  devastation  to  barrenness. 

It  is  a  desert,  surely,  yet  planted  in  its  dreary  wastes 
are  verdant-clad  mountains,  on  whose  summits  winter's 
snows  fall  and  accumulate,  and  in  whose  bosoms  springs 
of  life  are  harbored. 

It  is  a  desert,  surely,  yet  it  is  fringed  here  and  there 
with  dense  forests,  and  in  the  very  heart  of  its  direst 
desolation  threads  of  silvery  streams  lined  with  greenish 
verdure  seem  to  give  the  lie  to  the  name. 

It  is  desert,  barren,  inhospitable,  dangerous,  yet 
thousands  of  people  make  it  their  chosen  home.  Over 


INTRODUCTORY  xvii 

its  surface  roam  the  Bedouins  of  the  United  States, 
fearless  horsemen,  daring  travellers,  who  rival  in  pictu- 
resqueness,  if  not  in  evil,  their  compeers  of  the  deserts 
by  the  Nile.  Down  in  the  deep  canyon  water-ways  of 
the  desert-streams  dwell  other  peoples  whose  life  is  as 
strange,  weird,  wild,  and  fascinating  as  that  of  any  people 
of  earth. 

This  is  the  region  and  these  the  people  I  would  make 
the  American  reader  more  familiar  with.  Other  books 
have  been  written  on  the  Painted  Desert.  One  was 
published  a  few  years  ago,  written  by  a  clever  Ameri- 
can novelist,  and  published  by  one  of  America's  leading 
firms,  and  I  read  it  with  mingled  feelings  of  delight 
and  half  anger.  It  was  so  beautifully  and  charmingly 
written  that  one  familiar  with  the  scenes  depicted  could 
not  fail  to  enjoy  it,  although  indignant  —  because  of  the 
errors  that  might  have  been  avoided.  It  claims  only 
to  be  fiction.  Yet  the  youth  of  the  land  reading  it 
necessarily  gain  distinct  impressions  of  fact  from  its 
pages.  These  "  facts "  are,  unfortunately,  so  far  from 
true  that  they  mislead  the  reader.  It  would  have  been 
a  comparatively  slight  task  for  the  author  to  have  con- 
sulted government  records  and  thus  have  made  his  refer- 
ences to  geography  and  ethnology  correct. 

It  is  needless,  I  hope,  for  me  to  say  I  have  honestly 
endeavored  to  avoid  the  method  here  criticised.  The 
bibliography  incorporated  as  part  of  this  book  will 
enable  the  diligent  student  to  consult  authorities  about 
this  fascinating  region. 

But  now  comes  an  important  question.  What  are 
the  boundaries  of  the  Painted  Desert?  I  am  free  to 
confess  I  do  not  know,  nor  do  I  think  any  one  else  does. 
The  Spaniards  never  attempted  to  bound  it,  and  no  one 


xviii  INTRODUCTORY 

since  has  ever  had  the  temerity  to  do  so.  In  Ives's 
map  of  the  region  he  endeavored  to  explore,  and  of 
which  he  wrote  so  hopelessly,  he  places  the  Painted 
Desert  in  that  ill-defined  way  that  geographers  used 
to  follow  in  suggesting  the  location  of  the  Great  Amer- 
ican Desert. 

The  conditions  of  color  and  barrenness  that  first  sug- 
gested the  name  exist  over  a  large  area';  you  find  them 
in  the  plateaus  of  southern  Utah  and  the  wild  wastes 
of  southern  Nevada ;  they  exist  in  much  of  New  Mexico 
and  southwestern  Colorado.  In  Arizona  if  you  sweep 
around  north,  west,  south,  and  east,  they  are  there. 
Northward  —  in  the  cliffs  and  ravines  of  the  Grand  Can- 
yon country,  in  Blue  Canyon,  in  the  red  mesas,  the  coal 
deposits,  and  in  the  lava  flows  around  the  San  Francisco 
Mountains ;  westward  —  in  the  wild  mountains  and 
wilder  deserts  that  lead  to  the  crossings  of  the  Colorado 
River,  past  the  craters,  lava  flows,  Calico  Mountains, 
and  Mohave  Desert  of  the  country  adjoining  the  Santa 
Fe  Route,  and  the  Salton  Sea,  mud  volcanoes,  purple 
cliffs,  and  tawny  sands  of  the  Colorado  Desert  of  the 
Sunset  Route  of  the  Southern  Pacific ;  southward  —  in 
the  Red  Rock  country,  Sunset  Pass,  the  meteorite  beds 
of  Canyon  Diablo,  the  great  cliffs  of  the  Mogollon  Pla- 
teau, the  Tonto  Basin,  the  Verdi  Valley,  and  away  down, 
over  the  Hassayampa,  through  the  Salt  River  Valley, 
past  the  Superstition  and  other  purple  and  variegated 
mountains,  into  the  heart  of  northern  Mexico  itself; 
eastward  —  to  the  Petrified  Forest,  across  into  New 
Mexico  to  Mount  San  Mateo,  by  the  cliffs,  craters,  lava 
flows,  alkali  flats,  gorges  and  ravines  of  the  Zuni 
Mountain  country  and  as  far  as  the  Rio  Grande  at 
Albuquerque,  where  the  basalt  is  scattered  about  in  an 


INTRODUCTORY  xix 

irregular  way,  as  if  the  molten  stuff  had  been  washed 
over  the  country  from  some  titanic  bucket,  and  left  to 
lie  in  great  inky  blots  over  the  bright-colored  soils  and 
clays. 

To  me,  all  this  is  Painted  Desert  region,  for  much  of 
it  is  painted  and  much  is  desert.  Indeed,  if  one  Painted 
Desert  were  to  be  staked  off  in  any  one  of  the  above 
named  States,  ten  others,  equally  large,  could  be  found 
in  the  remaining  ones. 

It  is  a  wonderful  region  viewed  from  any  standpoint. 
Scenic  !  It  is  unrivalled  for  uniqueness,  contrasts,  variety, 
grandeur,  desolateness,  and  majesty.  Geologic !  The 
student  may  here  find  in  a  few  months  what  a  lifetime 
elsewhere  cannot  reveal.  Artistic  !  The  artist  will  find 
it  his  rapture  and  his  despair.  Archaeologic !  Ruins 
everywhere,  cavate,  cliff,  and  pueblo  dwellings,  waiting 
for  investigation,  and,  doubtless,  scores  as  yet  undis- 
covered. Ethnologic !  Hopi,  Wallapai,  Havasupai, 
Navaho,  Apache,  and  the  rest;  with  mythologies  as 
fascinating  and  complex  as  those  of  old  Greece;  with 
histories  that  lose  themselves  in  dim  legend  and  tradi- 
tion, and  that  tell  of  feuds  and  wars,  massacres  and 
conflicts,  that  extend  over  centuries. 

In  the  first  chapter  I  have  briefly  named  some  of  the 
wonders  and  marvels  of  this  fascinating  land,  and  though 
in  barest  outline,  "  the  half  has  not  been  told." 

It  will  be  noticed  that  I  have  not  rigidly  adhered  to 
the  subjects  as  indicated  by  the  heads  of  the  chapters. 
I  have  preferred  a  discursive  rather  than  a  rigid  style, 
for  I  deem  it  will  prove  itself  the  more  interesting  to  the 
generality  of  my  readers,  and  I  merely  call  attention  to 
it  so  that  my  critics  may  know  it  is  not  done  without 
intent. 


xx  INTRODUCTORY 

Of  the  Indians  of  this  region  I  have  room  to  write 
of  four  tribes  only,  viz.,  the  Hopi,  the  Navaho,  the 
Wallapai,  and  the  Havasupai.  Of  the  former  much  has 
been  written  in  late  years,  owing  to  the  interest  centred 
in  their  thrilling  religious  ceremony,  the  Snake  Dance. 
Of  the  Navaho  considerable  is  known,  but  of  the  Walla- 
pai and  Havasupai  there  is  little  known  and  less  written. 
Indeed,  of  the  Wallapai  there  is  nothing  in  print  except 
the  brief  and  cursory  remarks  of  travellers,  and  the  re- 
ports of  the  teachers  of  the  recently  established  schools 
to  the  Indian  Department.  No  one  is  better  aware  than 
myself  of  the  incomplete  and  fragmentary  character  of 
what  I  have  written,  but  this  book  is  issued,  as  others 
that  have  preceded  it  from  my  pen,  in  accord  with  my 
desire  to  place  in  compact  form  for  the  general  reader 
reliable  accounts  of  places  and  peoples  in  the  United 
States  hitherto  known  only  to  the  explorer  and  scientist. 

To  all  the  writers  of  the  United  States  Bureau  of 
Ethnology  and  the  Smithsonian  Institution,  as  well  as 
those  of  other  departments  of  the  Government  who 
have  written  on  the  region,  I  gratefully  acknowledge 
many  indebtednesses,  especially  to  Powell,  Fewkes, 
Matthews,  Stephen,  Hodge,  Hough,  Hrdlicka,  Gushing, 
and  Shufeldt. 

To  those  who  know  the  persistency  and  conscientious- 
ness of  my  labors  in  my  chosen  field,  and  the  pains  I 
take  both  by  observation  and  from  the  works  of  authori- 
ties to  gain  accurate  knowledge,  and  my  0zw-willingness 
to  acknowledge  by  pen  and  voice  those  to  whom  I  am 
indebted,  it  will  not  be  necessary  to  state  that  I  have 
endeavored  to  make  this  book  a  standard.  If  I  have 
failed  to  give  credit  where  it  was  due,  I  do  so  now  with 
an  open  heart. 


INTRODUCTORY  xxi 

For  the  kindly  reception  my  work  in  the  printed  page 
and  on  the  platform  has  received  in  the  past  I  hereby 
express  rny  grateful  acknowledgments. 


GEORGE  WHARTON  JAMES. 


AUTHOR  AMPHITHEATRE, 

BASS  CAMP, 
GRAND  CANYON,  ARIZONA. 


THE  INDIANS  OF  THE 

Painted  Desert  Region 

CHAPTER  I 
THE  PAINTED   DESERT  REGION 

CIVILIZATION  and  barbarism  obtrude  themselves 
delightfully  at  every  turn  in  this  Wonderland 
of  the  American  Southwest,  called  the  Painted  Desert 
Region. 

Ancient  and  modern  history  play  you  many  a  game 
of  hide-and-seek  as  you  endeavor  to  trace  either  one  or 
the  other  in  a  study  of  its  aboriginal  people ;  you  look 
upon  a  ceremony  performed  to-day  and  call  it  modern. 
In  reality  it  is  of  the  past,  so  old,  so  hoary  with  antiq- 
uity that  even  to  the  participants  it  has  lost  its  origin 
and  much  of  its  meaning. 

History  —  exciting,  thrilling,  tragic  —  has  been  made 
in  the  Painted  Desert  Region ;  was  being  made  centu- 
ries before  Leif  Ericson  landed  on  the  shores  of  Vin- 
land,  or  John  and  Sebastian  Cabot  sailed  from  Bristol. 
History  that  was  ancient  and  hoar  when  the  band  of 
pilgrims  from  Leyden  battled  with  the  wild  waves  of  the 
Atlantic's  New  England  shore,  and  was  lapsing  into 
sleepiness  before  the  guns  of  the  minute-men  were  fired 
at  Lexington  or  Allen  had  fallen  at  Bunker  Hill. 


2  THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

In  the  Painted  Desert  Region  we  find  peoples  strange, 
peculiar,  and  interesting,  whose  mythology  is  more  fas- 
cinating than  that  of  ancient  Greece,  and,  for  aught  we 
know  to  the  contrary,  may  be  equally  ancient ;  whose 
ceremonies  of  to-day  are  more  elaborate  than  those 
of  a  devout  Catholic,  more  complex  than  those  of  a 
Hindoo  pantheist,  more  weird  than  those  of  a  howling 
dervish  of  Turkestan. 

Peoples  whose  origin  is  as  uncertain  and  mysterious 
as  the  ancients  thought  the  source  of  the  Nile ;  whose 
history  is  unknown  except  in  the  fantastic,  though  stir- 
ring and  improbable  stories  told  by  the  elders  as  they 
gather  the  young  men  around  them  at  their  mystic 
ceremonies,  and  in  the  traditional  songs  sung  by  their 
high  priests  during  the  performance  of  long  and  ex- 
hausting worship. 

Peoples  whose  government  is  as  simple,  pure,  and 
perfect  as  that  of  the  patriarchs,  and  possibly  as  ancient, 
and  yet  more  republican  than  the  most  modern  govern- 
ment now  in  existence.  Peoples  whose  women  build 
and  own  the  houses,  and  whose  men  weave  the  garments 
of  the  women,  knit  the  stockings  of  their  own  wear,  and 
are  as  expert  with  needle  and  thread  as  their  ancestors 
were  with  bow  and  arrow,  obsidian-tipped  spear,  or 
stone  battle-axe. 

Here  live  peoples  of  peace  and  peoples  of  war ;  wan- 
derers and  stay-at-homes;  house-builders  and  those 
who  scorn  fixed  dwelling-places;  poets  whose  songs, 
like  those  of  blind  Homer  and  the  early  Troubadors, 
were  never  written,  but  enshrined  only  in  the  hearts  of 
the  race ;  artists  whose  paints  are  the  brilliant  sands  of 
many-colored  mountains,  and  whose  brushes  are  their 
own  deft  fingers. 


A  FREAK  OF  EROSION  IN  THE  PETRIFIED  FOREST. 


JOURNEYING  OVER  THE  PAINTED  DESERT  TO  THE  HOPI  SNAKE  DANCE. 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION       3 

Its  modern  history  begins  about  three  hundred  and 
fifty  years  ago  when  one  portion  of  it  was  discovered  by 
a  negro  slave,  whose  amorous  propensities  lured  him 
to  his  death,  and  the  other  by  a  priest,  of  whom  one 
writer  says  his  reports  were  "  so  disgustful  in  lyes  and 
wrapped  up  in  fictions  that  the  Light  was  little  more 
than  Darkness." 

Of  its  ancient  history  who  can  more  than  guess?  To 
most  questions  it  remains  as  silent  as  the  Sphinx.  The 
riddle  of  the  Sphinx,  though,  is  being  solved,  and  so 
by  the  careful  and  scientific  work  of  the  Bureau  of 
Ethnology,  the  riddles  of  the  prehistoric  life  of  our 
Southwest,  slowly  but  surely,  are  being  resolved. 

One  of  the  countries  comprised  in  the  Painted  Desert 
Region  is  the  theme  of  an  epic,  Homerian  in  style  if 
not  in  quality,  full  of  wars  and  rumors  of  wars,  storming 
of  impregnable  citadels,  and  the  recitals  of  deeds  as 
brave  and  heroic  as  those  of  the  Greeks  at  Marathon  or 
Thermopylae ;  a  poem  recently  discovered,  after  having 
remained  buried  in  the  tomb  of  oblivion  for  over  two 
hundred  years. 

Here  are  peoples  of  stupendous  religious  beliefs. 
Peoples  who  can  truthfully  be  designated  as  the  most 
religious  of  the  world;  yet  peoples  as  agnostic  and 
sceptic,  if  not  as  learned,  as  Hume,  Voltaire,  Spencer, 
and  Ingersoll.  Peoples  to  whom  a  written  letter  is 
witchcraft  and  sorcery,  and  yet  who  can  read  the 
heavens,  interpret  the  writings  of  the  woods,  deserts, 
and  canyons  with  a  certainty  never  failing  and  unerring. 
Peoples  who  twenty-five  years  ago  stoned  and  hanged 
the  witches  and  wizards  they  sincerely  thought  cursed 
them,  and  who,  ten  years  ago  hanged,  and  perhaps  even 
to-day,  though  secretly,  hang  one  another  on  a  cross  as 


4  THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

an  act  of  virtue  and  religious  faith,  after  cruelly  beat- 
ing themselves  and  one  another  with  scourges  of  deadly 
cactus  thorns. 

Here  are  intelligent  farmers,  who,  for  centuries,  have 
scientifically  irrigated  their  lands,  and  yet  who  cut  off  the 
ears  of  their  burros  to  keep  them  from  stealing  corn. 

A  land  it  is  of  witchcraft  and  sorcery,  of  horror  and 
dread  of  ghosts  and  goblins,  of  daily  propitiation  of 
Fates  and  Powers  and  Princes  of  Darkness  and  Air  at 
the  very  thought  of  whom  withering  curses  and  blasting 
injuries  are  sure  to  come. 

Here  dwell  peoples  who  dance  through  fierce,  flam- 
ing fires,  lacerate  themselves  with  cactus  whips,  run 
long  wearisome  races  over  the  scorching  sands  of  the 
desert,  and  handle  deadly  rattlesnakes  with  fearless 
freedom,  as  part  of  their  religious  worship. 

Peoples  who  pray  by  machinery  as  the  Burmese  use 
their  prayer  wheels,  and  who  "  plant "  supplications  as 
a  gardener  "  plants  "  trees  and  shrubs. 

Peoples  to  whom  a  smoking  cigarette  is  made  the 
means  of  holy  communion,  the  handling  of  poisonous 
reptiles  a  sacred  and  solemn  act  of  devotion,  and  the 
playing  with  dolls  the  opportunity  for  giving  religious 
instruction  to  their  children. 

Peoples  who  are  pantheists,  sun  worshippers,  and 
snake  dancers,  yet  who  have  churches  and  convents 
built  with  incredible  labor  and  as  extensive  as  any  mod- 
ern cathedral. 

Peoples  whose  conservatism  in  manners  and  religion 
surpass  that  of  the  veriest  English  tories ;  who,  for  hun- 
dreds of  years,  have  steadily  and  successfully  resisted 
all  efforts  to  "  convert "  and  change  them,  and  who 
to-day  are  as  firm  in  their  ancient  faiths  as  ever.  Peoples 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION       5 

whom  Spanish  conquistadors  could  not  tame  with 
matchlock,  pike,  and  machete,  nor  United  States  forces 
with  Gatling  gun,  rifle,  and  bayonet. 

Peoples  to  whom  fraternal  organizations  and  secret 
societies,  for  men  and  women  alike,  are  as  ancient  as  the 
mountains  they  inhabit,  whose  lodge  rooms  are  more 
wonderful,  and  whose  signs  and  passwords  more  com- 
plex than  those  of  any  organization  of  civilized  lands 
and  modern  times. 

Peoples  industrious  and  peoples  studiously  lazy, 
honest  and  able  in  thievery,  truthful  and  consummate 
liars,  cleanly  and  picturesquely  dirty,  interesting  and 
repulsively  loathsome,  charming  and  artistically  hideous, 
religious  and  cursedly  wicked,  peaceful  and  unceasingly 
warlike,  lovers  of  home  and  haters  of  fixed  habitations. 

Here  are  peoples  who  dwell  upon  almost  inaccessible 
cliffs,  peoples  of  the  clouds,  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
peoples  who  dwell  in  canyon  depths,  where  stupendous 
walls,  capable  of  enclosing  Memphis,  Thebes,  Luxor, 
Karnak,  and  all  the  ruins  of  ancient  Egypt,  are  the 
boundaries  of  their  primitive  residences. 

The  Painted  Desert  Region  is  a  country  where  rattle- 
snakes are  washed,  prayed  over,  caressed,  carried  in  the 
mouth,  and  placed  before  and  on  sacred  altars  in  relig- 
ious worship. 

Where  the  worship  of  the  goddess  of  reproduction 
with  all  its  phallic  symbolism  is  carried  on  in  public 
processionals,  dances,  and  ceremonials  by  men,  women, 
maidens,  and  children  without  shameful  self-conscious- 
ness, yet  where  dire  penalties,  even  unto  mutilation 
and  death,  are  visited  upon  the  unchaste. 

Where  polygamy  has  been  as  openly  practised  as  in 
the  days  of  Abraham,  and  possibly  from  as  early  a  time, 


6  THE    INDIANS   OF   THE 

and  where  to-day  it  is  as  common  to  see  a  man  who, 
openly,  has  two  or  more  wives,  as  in  civilized  lands  it 
is  common  to  see  him  with  but  one.  And  yet  it  is 
a  land  in  which  polygamy  is  expressly  forbidden  by 
United  States  law,  and  where  numbers  of  arrests  have 
been  made  for  violation  of  that  law. 

Where  religious  rites  are  performed,  so  mystic  and 
ancient  that  their  meaning  is  unknown  even  to  the 
most  learned  of  those  who  partake  in  them. 

Indeed,  the  Painted  Desert  Region,  though  a  part 
of  the  United  States  of  America,  is  a  land  of  peoples 
strange,  unique,  complex,  diverse,  and  singular  as  can 
be  found  in  any  similar  area  on  the  earth,  and  the 
physical  contour  of  the  country  is  as  strange  and 
diverse  as  are  the  peoples  who  inhabit  it. 

It  is  a  land  of  gloriously  impressive  mountains, 
crowned  with  the  snows  of  blessing  and  bathed  in  a 
wealth  of  glowing  colors,  changing  hues,  and  tender 
tints  that  few  other  countries  on  earth  can  boast. 

On  its  eastern  outskirt  is  a  portion  of  one  of  the 
largest  cretaceous  monoclines  in  the  world,  and  near  by 
is  a  natural  inkstand,  half  a  mile  in  circumference,  from 
which,  centuries  ago,  flowed  fiery,  inky  lava  which  has 
now  solidified  in  intensest  blackness  over  hundreds  of 
miles  of  surrounding  country. 

It  is  a  land  of  mountain-high  plateaus,  edged  with 
bluffs,  cliffs,  and  escarpments  that  delight  the  distant 
beholder  with  their  richness  of  coloring  and  wondrous 
variety  of  outline,  and  thrill  with  horror  those  who 
unexpectedly  stand  on  their  brinks. 

It  is  a  land  of  laziness  and  indifferent  content,  where 
everything  is  done  "  poco  tiempo  "  —  "in  a  little  while  " 
—  and  where  "  to-morrow "  is  early  enough  for  all 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION       7 

laborious  tasks,  and  yet  a  land  of  such  tireless  energy, 
never-ceasing  work,  and  arduous  labor  as  few  countries 
else  have  ever  known. 

A  land  where  people  live  in  refinement,  education, 
and  all  the  luxuries  of  twentieth-century  civilization 
side  by  side  with  peoples  whose  dress,  modes  of  living, 
habits  of  eating  and  sleeping,  styles  of  food  and  cookery 
are  similar  to  those  of  the  subjects  of  Boadicea  and 
Caractacus. 

In  the  Painted  Desert  Region  the  root  of  one 
dangerous-looking  prickly  cactus  is  used  for  soap,  and 
the  fruit  of  another  for  food. 

Here  horses  dig  for  water,  and  mules  are  stimulated 
by  whiskey  to  draw  their  weighty  loads  over  torrid 
deserts  and  up  mountain  steeps. 

It  is  a  land  of  ruins,  desolate  and  forlorn,  buried  and 
forgotten,  with  histories  tragic,  bloody,  romantic;  ruins 
where  charred  timbers,  ghastly  bones,  and  demolished 
walls  speak  of  midnight  attacks,  treacherous  surprises, 
and  cruel  slaughters;  where  whole  cities  have  been 
exterminated  and  destroyed  as  if  under  the  ancient 
commands  to  the  Hebrews :  "  Destroy,  slay,  kill,  and 
spare  not." 

A  desert  country,  and  yet,  in  spots,  marvellously 
fertile.  Barren,  wild,  desolate,  forsaken  it  is,  and  yet, 
here  and  there,  fertile  valleys,  wooded  slopes,  and  gar- 
den patches  may  be  found  as  rich  as  any  on  earth. 

Where  atmospheric  colorings  are  so  perfect  and  so 
divinely  artistic  in  their  applications  that  weary  and  deso- 
late deserts  are  made  dreams  of  glory  and  supremest 
beauty,  and  harsh  rugged  mountains  are  sublimated 
into  transcendent  pictures  of  tender  tints  and  ever- 
changing  but  always  harmonious  combinations  of  color. 


8  THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

A  land  where  rain  may  be  seen  falling  in  fifty  showers 
all  around,  and  yet  not  a  drop  fall,  for'a  year  or  more, 
on  the  spot  where  the  observer  stands. 

A  land  of  sculptured  images  and  fantastic  carvings. 
Where  water,  wind,  storm,  sand,  frost,  heat,  atmosphere, 
and  other  agencies,  unguided  and  uncontrolled  by  man, 
have  combined  to  make  figures  more  striking,  more 
real,  more  picturesque,  more  ugly,  more  beautiful,  and 
more  fantastic  than  those  of  the  angels,  devils,  saints, 
and  sinners  that  crown  and  adorn  the  ancient  Pagan 
shrines  of  the  Orient  and  the  more  modern  Christian 
shrines  of  the  Occident ;  —  a  veritable  Toom-pin-nu- 
wear-tu-weep  —  Land  of  the  Standing  Rocks  —  more 
gigantic,  wonderful,  and  attractive  than  can  be  found 
elsewhere  in  the  world. 

Where  sand  moimtains,  yielding  alike  to  the  fierce 
winds  of  winter  and  the  gentle  breezes  of  summer, 
slowly  travel  from  place  to  place,  irresistibly  controlling 
fresh  sites  and  burying  all  that  obstructs  their  path. 

A  land  where,  in  summer,  railway  trains  are  often 
stopped  by  drifting  sands  blown  by  scorching  winds 
over  almost  trackless  Saharas,  and  where,  in  winter, 
the  same  trains  are  stopped  by  drifting  snows  blown 
over  the  same  Saharas  now  made  Arctic  in  their  frozen 
solitude. 

A  land  where  once  were  vast  lakes  in  which  disported 
ugly  monsters,  and  on  the  surface  of  which  swam  mighty 
fish-birds  who  gazed  with  curious  wonder  upon  the 
enormous  reptiles,  birds,  and  animals  which  came  to 
lave  themselves  in  the  cooling  waves  or  drink  of  their 
refreshing  waters. 

But  now  lakes,  fishes,  reptiles,  and  animals  have 
entirely  disappeared.  Where  placid  lakes  once  were 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION       9 

lashed  into  fury  by  angry  winds  are  now  only  sand 
wastes  and  water-worn  rocks  where  the  winds  howl 
and  shriek  and  rave,  and  mourn  the  loss  of  the  waters 
with  which  they  used  to  sport;  and  the  only  remnants 
of  prehistoric  fishes,  reptiles,  and  animals  are  found  in 
decaying  bones  or  fossilized  remains  deep  imbedded 
in  the  strata  of  the  unnumbered  ages. 

A  land  where  volcanic  fires  and  fierce  lava  flows, 
accompanied  by  deadly  fumes,  noxious  gases,  and 
burning  flames,  have  made  lurid  the  midnight  skies, 
and  driven  happy  people  from  their  peaceful  homes. 

A  land  through  which  a  mighty  river  dashes  madly 
and  unrestrainedly  to  the  sea,  and  yet  where,  a  few 
miles  away,  a  spring  that  flows  a  few  buckets  of  water 
an  hour  is  an  inestimable  treasure.  Yes  indeed,  where, 
in  sight  of  that  giant  river,  thirsty  men  have  gone 
raving  mad  for  want  of  water,  and  have  hurled  them- 
selves headlong  down  thousand-feet-high  precipices  in 
their  uncontrolled  desire  to  reach  the  precious  and 
cooling  stream. 

A  land  of  rich  and  florid  coloring  where  the  Master 
Artist  has  revelled  in  matchless  combinations.  It  is  a 
land  of  color,  —  sweet,  gentle,  tender  colors  that  pene- 
trate the  soul  as  the  words  of  a  lover ;  fierce,  glaring, 
bold  colors  that  strike  as  with  the  clenched  fist  of  a 
foe. 

It  is  the  stage  upon  which  the  bronze  and  white 
actors  of  three  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago  played 
their  games  of  life  with  ambitions,  high  as  they  were 
selfish,  determined  as  they  were  bold,  and  unscrupulous 
as  they  were  successful. 


io         THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 


CHAPTER  II 
DESERT  RECOLLECTIONS 

OF  the  flora  and  fauna  of  the  Painted  Desert  Region 
I  have  made  no  study.  That  they  are  fascinating 
the  works  of  Hart  Merriam,  Coville,  Lemmon,  Hough, 
and  others  of  later  days,  and  of  the  specialists  of  the 
earlier  government  surveys,  abundantly  testify.  There 
are  cacti  of  varieties  into  the  hundreds,  sagebrush,  black 
and  white  grama,  bunch  grass,  salt  grass,  hackberry, 
buck-brush,  pines,  junipers,  spruces,  cottonwoods,  and 
willows,  besides  a  thousand  flowering  plants.  There 
are  lizards,  swifts,  rattlesnakes,  scorpions,  Gila  monsters, 
vinegerones,  prairie  dogs,  hedgehogs,  turtles,  squirrels, 
cottontail  and  jack-rabbits,  antelope,  deer,  mountain 
sheep,  wildcats,  and  some  bear. 

It  is  more  of  its  physiographic  conditions  in  a  general 
way,  however,  that  I  would  here  write. 

Most  people's  conception  of  a  desert  is  a  flat,  level 
place  of  nothing  but  sand.  It  is  sand  instead  of  water; 
a  desert  instead  of  an  ocean.  Few  deserts  conform  to 
this  conception,  —  none,  indeed,  that  I  know  of  in  the 
boundaries  of  the  United  States.  This  Painted  Desert 
Region  is  wonderfully  diversified.  There  is  sand,  of 
course,  but  much  rock,  many  trees,  more  canyons,  some 
mountains  and  lava  flows,  extinct  volcanoes,  forests,  and 
pastures.  The  Grand  Canyon  runs  across  its  northern 
borders,  and  it  is  the  vampire  river  that  flows  in  that 
never-to-be-described  water-way  that  drains  away  the 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     u 

water  which  leaves  this  the  desert  region  it  is ;  for  the 
Colorado  has  many  tributaries,  and  tributaries  of  tribu- 
taries,—the  Little  Colorado,  Havasu  (Cataract)  Creek, 
Canyon  Padre,  Canyon  Diablo,  Walnut  Creek,  Oak 
Creek,  Willow  Creek,  Diamond  Creek,  and  a  score  or 
hundred  others. 

Its  great  mountains  are  the  San  Francisco  range,  on 
the  shoulders  of  which  Flagstaff  is  located,  Mount  San 
Mateo,  seen  from  the  Santa  Fe"  train  near  Grants  in  New 
Mexico,  and  Williams  Mountain,  west  of  Flagstaff,  at 
the  foot  of  which  the  railway  traveller  will  see  the  town 
of  Williams. 

Near  Flagstaff  are  a  number  of  extinct  volcanoes  and 
great  masses  of  lava  flow ;  from  the  train  at  Blue  Water 
to  the  right  a  few  miles  one  may  see  the  crater  Tintaro 
—  the  Inkstand.  The  Zuni  Mountains  have  many 
craters,  chief  of  which  is  the  Agua  Fria  crater,  and  lava 
flows  from  the  Zuni  Mountains  and  Mount  San  Mateo 
meet  in  the  valley,  and  one  rides  alongside  them  for 
miles  coming  west  beyond  Laguna. 

South  of  Canyon  Diablo  is  a  wonderful  meteoritic 
mountain,  the  explanation  of  whose  existence  the  scien- 
tists have  not  yet  determined.  From  Peach  Springs  a 
large  meteoric  rock  was  sent  to  the  Smithsonian,  and 
I  have  one  dug  out  of  a  hole  of  its  own  making  in  the 
Zuni  Mountains,  both  of  which  weigh  upwards  of  a  ton. 

To  the  east  of  the  Canyon  Diablo  Mountain  is  Sun- 
set Pass,  familiar  to  the  readers  of  Gen.  Charles  King's 
thrilling  Arizona  stories,  and  beyond  it  to  the  south 
are  Hell's  Canyon,  —  which  does  not  belie  its  name,  — 
the  Verdi  Valley,  and  the  interesting  Red  Rock  Country, 
where  numerous  cliff  and  cavate  dwellings  have  recently 
been  discovered  and  explored  by  Dr.  Fewkes. 


12         THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

Indeed,  this  whole  region  is  one  of  cliff  and  cavate 
and  other  forsaken  dwellings.  Everywhere  one  meets 
with  them.  Desert  mounds,  on  examination,  prove  to 
be  sites  of  long-buried  cities,  and  hundreds,  nay  thou- 
sands of  exquisite  vessels  of  clay,  decorated  in  long-for- 
gotten ways,  have  been  dug  up  from  them  and  sent  to 
grace  the  shelves  of  museums  and  speak  of  a  people 
long  since  crumbled  to  dust. 

The  miner  has  found  it  a  profitable  field  for  his 
operations,  the  Jerome  and  Congress,  with  the  Old 
Vulture  and  similar  mines,  having  made  great  fortunes 
for  their  owners.  More  than  half  our  knowledge  of 
the  country  came  primarily  from  the  daring  and  cour- 
ageous prospectors  who  risked  its  dangers  and  deaths 
in  their  search  for  gold. 

The  roads  in  the  Painted  Desert  are  long  and  tedious, 
and  the  horses  drag  their  weary  way  over  the  scorching 
sands,  the  wheels  of  the  wagon  sinking  in,  as  does  also 
the  heart  of  the  sensitive  rider  who  sees  the  efforts  the 
poor  beasts  are  making  to  obey  his  will.  Yet  the 
animals  seldom  sweat.  Such  is  the  rapid  radiation  of 
moisture  in  this  dry,  high  atmosphere  that  one  never 
sees  any  of  the  sweat  and  lather  so  common  to  hard- 
driven  horses  in  lower  altitude. 

The  food  question  for  horses  is  often  serious  if  one 
goes  far  from  the  beaten  path  of  traders  or  Indians.  A 
desert  is  not  a  pasture,  though  its  scant  patches  of  grass 
often  have  to  serve  for  one.  The  general  custom,  where 
possible,  is  to  carry  a  small  amount  of  grain,  which 
is  fed  sparingly  night  and  morning.  The  horses  are 
hobbled  and  turned  loose  in  as  good  pasture  as  can  be 
found.  Hence  the  first  questions  asked  when  deter- 
mining a  camping  place  are,  "  What  kind  of  pasture 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     13 

and  water  does  it  possess?"  There  are  times  when  one 
dare  not  run  the  risk  of  turning  the  horses  loose. 
Thirsty  beyond  endurance,  they  will  often  travel  all 
night,  even  though  closely  hobbled,  back  to  where  the 
last  water  was  secured.  Then  they  must  be  tracked 
back,  and  no  more  exhausting  and  disheartening  occu- 
pation do  I  know  than  this. 

On  one  occasion  we  were  compelled  to  camp  where 
there  was  little  pasturage.  It  rained,  and  there  were 
two  ladies  in  my  party.  The  covered  wagon  was 
emptied  and  their  blankets  rolled  down  in  it,  so  that 
they  could  be  in  shelter.  Our  driver  was  a  German 
named  Hank.  Two  of  "  his  horses  were  mules,"  and 
these  were  tied  one  to  each  of  the  front  wheels.  The 
two  real  horses  were  tied  to  the  rear  wheels.  During 
the  night  "  Pete,"  one  of  the  mules,  got  his  fore  legs 
over  the  pole  of  the  wagon,  and  began  to  tug  and  pull 
so  that  the  ladies  were  afraid  the  vehicle  might  be  over- 
turned. Calling  to  Hank,  the  poor  fellow  was  compelled 
to  get  out  of  his  blankets  and  in  the  rain  go  to  Pete's 
rescue.  To  their  intense  amusement  the  ladies  heard 
him  remonstrating  with  the  refractory  mule,  and  almost 
exploded  when  he  wound  up  his  remonstrances,  hitherto 
couched  in  quiet  and  dignified  language,  "  Pete,  you 
are  von  little  tefel." 

Some  people  do  not  like  to  hobble  a  horse,  and  so 
they  picket  him.  There  are  different  ways  of  "  picket- 
ing" a  horse.  He  may  be  tied  by  the  halter  to  a  bush, 
tree,  wagon,  or  stake  driven  into  the  ground.  But  these 
methods  are  fraught  with  danger.  I  once  had  a  valuable 
horse  at  a  time  when  Dr.  Joseph  LeConte,  the  beloved 
professor  of  geology  of  the  University  of  California,  was 
spending  a  month  with  me  in  the  mountains.  We  had 


14         THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

six  horses,  and  all  were  "  picketed  "  from  the  halter,  or 
a  rope  around  the  neck.  Three  times  a  day  we  changed 
them  to  fresh  pasturage.  At  one  of  the  changing  times 
we  found  the  beautiful  black  stretched  out  cold  and 
stiff.  In  scratching  his  head  the  hoof  of  his  hind  foot 
had  caught  in  the  rope,  and  in  seeking  to  free  himself 
he  had  pulled  the  rope  tighter  and  tighter  until  he  had 
strangled  himself.  The  gentle-hearted  professor  sat  down 
and  wept  at  the  tragic  end  of  the  noble  horse  "  Duke  " 
he  had  already  learned  to  love. 

To  prevent  this  danger  I  have  often  picketed  a  horse's 
hind  foot  to  a  log  heavy  enough  to  drag,  so  that  the  hun- 
gry animal  could  move  a  little  in  search  of  food,  but  not 
run  or  get  far  away.  There  have  been  two  or  three 
times,  however,  in  my  experience,  where  I  could  find 
neither  tree,  bush,  nor  stake.  Not  a  rock  or  log  could 
be  found  for  miles  to  which  the  saddle  horse  I  rode 
could  be  picketed.  What  then  could  I  do  ?  Sit  up  all 
night  to  care  for  my  horse?  Ride  all  night?  Or  do 
as  I  heard  of  one  or  two  men  having  done,  viz.,  picket 
the  horse  to  my  own  foot?  I  once  heard  of  a  man 
who  was  dragged  to  his  death  that  way.  His  cayuse 
was  startled  during  the  night  and  started  to  run.  As 
the  rope  tightened  and  he  dragged  the  unhappy  wretch 
attached  to  him,  his  fear  increased  his  speed,  and  not 
until  he  was  exhausted  and  breathless  did  he  stop  in 
his  wild,  mad  race.  He  was  found  with  the  corpse, 
bruised  and  mangled  beyond  all  recognition,  still  drag- 
ging at  the  end  of  the  rope. 

I  had  no  desire  to  run  such  risk.  So  I  did  the  impos- 
sible, —  picketed  my  horse  to  a  hole  in  the  ground. 

"  Nonsense !  Picket  a  horse  to  a  hole  in  the  ground  ? 
It  can't  be  done !  " 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     15 

Indeed!  But  I  did  it.  Watch  me.  Cut  into  the 
ground  (especially  if  it  is  a  little  grassy)  and  make  a  hole 
a  little  larger  than  to  allow  your  full  fist  to  enter.  As 
you  dig  deeper  widen  the  hole  below  so  that  it  is 
a  kind  of  a  chimney  towards  the  top.  Dig  fully  a  foot 
or  a  foot  and  a  half  down.  Then  take  the  rope,  which 
is  already  fastened  at  the  other  end  to  your  horse,  wrap 
the  end  around  a  piece  of  grass,  or  paper,  or  a  small 
stone,  or  anything ;  put  the  knot  into  the  hole,  and 
"  tamp  "  in  the  earth  as  vigorously  as  you  can.  Your 
horse  is  then  fast,  unless  he  grows  desperately  afraid 
and  pulls  with  more  than  ordinary  vigor. 

The  scarcity  of  water  makes  journeying  on  the  Painted 
Desert  a  grave  and  serious  problem.  The  springs  are 
few  and  far  between,  and  only  in  the  rainy  season  can 
one  rely  upon  stony  or  clay  pockets  that  fill  up  with  the 
precious  fluid.  In  going  from  Canyon  Diablo  to  Oraibi 
there  are  four  places  where  water  may  be  obtained. 
First  in  a  small  canyon  a  few  miles  west  of  Volz's 
Crossing  of  the  Little  Colorado ;  then  at  the  Lakes,  — 
small  ponds  of  dirty,  stagnant  water,  where  a  trading- 
post  is  located  and  where  the  journey  is  generally 
broken  for  a  night.  Next  day,  twenty-two  miles  must 
be  driven  to  Little  Burro  Spring  before  water  is  again 
found,  and  a  few  miles  further  on,  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  valley,  is  Big  Burro  Spring.  Then  no  more  water 
is  found  until  Oraibi  is  reached.  There  are  two  springs 
on  the  western  side  of  the  Oraibi  mesa,  and  three  miles 
on  the  eastern  side  in  the  Oraibi  Wash  is  a  good  well, 
some  sixty  feet  deep,  of  cold  and  good  but  not  over- 
clear  water.  There  are  small  pools  near  Mashonganavi, 
Shipauluvi,  and  Shungopavi,  but  the  water  is  poor  at 
best  and  very  limited  in  quantity  to  those  who  are  used 


1 6         THE    INDIANS   OF   THE 

to  the  illimitable  flow  of  ordinary  Eastern  cities.  The 
whole  water  supply  at  Mashonganavi,  which  is  by  far 
the  best  watered  town  of  the  middle  mesa,  would  not 
more  than  suffice  for  the  needs  of  a  New  York  or  Boston 
family  of  six  or  eight  persons,  and  consternation  would 
sit  upon  the  face  of  the  mistress  of  either  household  if 
such  water  were  to  flow  through  the  faucets  of  her 
home. 

At  Walpi  there  are  three  pool  springs  on  the  west 
side,  but  all  flow  slowly.  One  is  good  (for  the  desert), 
another  is  fair,  and  the  third  is  horrible.  Yet  this  last  is 
almost  equal  to  the  supply  on  the  eastern  side,  where 
there  are  three  pool  springs,  only  two  of  which  can  be 
used  for  domestic  purposes. 

Storms  fearful  and  terrible  often  sweep  across  this 
desert  region.  I  have  "enjoyed"  several  notable  ex- 
periences in  them,  storms  of  sand,  of  rain,  of  wind,  of 
lightning,  and  of  thunder,  sometimes  one  kind  alone, 
other  times  of  a  combination  of  kinds.  At  one  time 
we  were  camped  in  the  Oraibi  Wash  not  far  from  the 
home  of  the  Mennonite  missionary,  my  friend  Rev. 
H.  R.  Voth.  There  were  seven  of  us  in  my  party,  — 
five  men,  two  women.  Our  general  custom  on  making 
a  camp  was  first  of  all  to  choose  the  best  place  for  the 
beds  of  the  ladies,  and  then  the  men  arranged  their 
blankets  in  picturesque  irregularity  around  them  at 
some  distance  away,  thus  forming  a  complete  guard, 
not  because  of  any  necessity,  but  to  make  the  ladies 
feel  less  timid.  As  my  daughter  was  one  of  the  ladies, 
I  invariably  rolled  out  my  blankets  near  enough  to  be 
called  readily  should  there  be  any  occasion  during  the 
night. 

We  had  not  been  in  our  blankets  long,  that  night, 


THE  PAINTED  DESERT  NEAR  THE  LITTLE  COLORADO  RIVER. 


ASLEEP,  EARLY  MORNING,  ON  THE  PAINTED  DESERT. 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     17 

before  a  fearful  thunder  and  rain-storm  burst  upon  us. 
We  had  all  gone  to  bed  tired  after  our  long  and  weary 
day  watching  the  Hopi  ceremonies,  and  the  camp  equi- 
page was  not  prepared  for  a  storm.  It  was  pitch  dark 
except  for  the  sharp  flashes  of  lightning  which  occa- 
sionally cut  the  blackness  into  jagged  sections,  and  the 
deluge  of  rain  waited  for  no  squeamishness  on  my  part. 
Hastily  jumping  up,  I  ran  to  and  fro  in  my  bare  feet 
and  night  garments,  caught  up  a  big  wagon  sheet,  and 
endeavored  to  spread  it  over  the  exposed  beds  of  the 
ladies.  The  wind  was  determined  I  should  not  succeed, 
but  I  am  English  and  obstinate.  So  I  seized  camera 
cases,  valises,  boxes  of  canned  food,  and  anything 
heavy,  and  placed  them  upon  the  edges  of  the  flapping 
canvas.  Running  back  and  forth  to  the  wagon,  the 
lightning  every  now  and  again  revealed  a  drenched, 
fantastic  figure,  and  I  could  hear  suppressed  laughter 
and  giggles  from  under  the  blankets  whence  should 
have  issued  songs  of  thankfulness  to  me.  But  "  it  was 
ever  thus ! "  I  succeeded  finally  in  pinning  down  the 
canvas,  and  had  just  rolled  my  wet  and  shivering  form 
in  my  own  drenched  blankets,  when  Mr.  Voth,  with  a 
lantern  in  his  hand,  came  and  simply  demanded  that  the 
ladies  come  over  to  warmth  and  shelter  in  his  hospitable 
house.  Hastily  wrapping  themselves  up,  they  started, 
blown  about  by  the  wind  and  flaunted  by  the  tempest. 
The  sand  made  it  harder  still  to  walk,  and  out  of  breath 
and  wildly  dishevelled,  they  struggled  up  the  bank  of 
the  Wash  and  were  soon  comfortably  ensconsed  indoors. 
Then,  strange  irony  of  events,  the  storm  immediately 
ceased,  the  heavens  cleared,  the  stars  shone  bright,  the 
cool  night  air  became  delicious  to  the  nostrils  and  tired 
bodies,  and  we  who  remained  outside  had  a  sleep  as 


2 


i8         THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 

ineffably  sweet  as  that  of  healthful  babes,  while  the 
ladies  sweltered  and  rolled  and  tossed  with  discomfort 
in  the  moist  heat  that  had  accumulated  in  the  closed 
rooms. 

A  few  years  later  I  was  again  at  Oraibi,  and 
strangely  near  the  same  camping  place.  This  time  my 
companions  were  W.  W.  Bass,  whose  early  adventures 
have  been  recounted  in  my  "  In  and  Around  the  Grand 
Canyon,"  a  photographer,  and  a  British  friend  of  his  who 
had  stopped  off  in  California  on  his  way  home  from 
Japan.  Mr.  Britisher  had  contributed  a  small  share 
towards  the  expenses  of  the  expedition,  but  with  insular 
ignorance  he  had  presumed  that  his  small  mite  would 
pay  the  expenses  of  the  whole  outfit  for  a  long  period. 
It  must  be  confessed  that  we  had  had  a  most  arduous 
trip.  The  Painted  Desert  had  shown  its  ugly  side  from 
the  very  moment  we  left  the  railway.  Four  miles  out 
we  had  been  stopped  by  the  most  terrific  and  vivid 
lightning-storm  it  has  ever  been  my  good  fortune  to 
witness  and  to  be  scared  half  out  of  my  wits  with.  At 
Rock  Tanks  we  had  another  storm.  We  had  been 
jolted  and  shaken  on  our  way  out  to  Hopi  Point  of  the 
Grand  Canyon,  and  had  come  so  near  to  perishing  for 
want  of  water  that  we  fell  on  our  knees  and  greedily 
drank  the  vilest  liquid  from  an  alkali  pool,  a  standing 
place  of  horses,  on  our  way  to  the  Little  Colorado.  At 
the  old  Tanner  Crossing  of  that  stream  we  had  had  another 
rain  and  lightning-storm  near  unto  the  first  in  fury,  and 
in  which  our  British  friend  had  been  caught  in  his 
blankets  and  nearly  frightened  to  death.  In  the  Moen- 
kopi  Wash  he  was  offended  because  I  left  the  wagon 
to  ride  to  the  home  and  accept  the  hospitality  of  the 
Mormon  bishop,  which  he  interpreted  again  with  insular 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     19 

ignorance  to  mean  a  palace,  a  place  of  luxury,  exquisite 
restfulness,  good  foods,  and  delicious  iced  wines,  while 
he  was  left  to  beans,  bacon,  flapjacks,  and  dried  fruit, 
and  a  roll  of  blankets  on  the  rough  and  uneven  ground. 
(It  did  n't  make  any  difference  that  I  explained  to  him 
next  day  that  I  had  slept  on  a  grass  plot  with  one  quilt 
and  no  pillow,  cold,  shivering,  and  longing  for  my  good 
substantial  roll  of  Navaho  blankets,  left  for  him  to  use 
if  he  so  desired,  and  that  our  "  banquet "  had  been  coarse 
bread  and  a  bowl  of  milk.)  Then  we  had  had  another 
storm  at  Toh-gas-je,  which  I  had  partially  avoided  by 
riding  on  ahead  in  the  light  wagon  of  the  Indian  agent 
who  piloted  us,  while  he  —  Mr.  Britisher  —  was  in  the 
heavier  ambulance.  The  next  night  we  camped,  at- 
tempting to  sleep  on  the  stony  slopes  of  the  hillside  at 
Blue  Canyon  in  wretchedness  and  misery,  because  it 
was  too  late  when  we  arrived  to  dare  to  drive  down  into 
the  canyon.  The  next  day  we  drove  over  the  Sahara 
of  America,  a  sandy  desert  which  even  to  the  Hopis  is 
the  most  a-tu-u-u  (hot)  of  all  earthly  places.  That 
noon  we  camped  in  the  dry  wash  of  Tnebitoh,  where  we 
had  to  dig  for  water,  waiting  for  it  slowly  to  seep  into 
the  hole  we  had  dug.  It  was  a  sandy,  alkaline  decoc- 
tion, but  we  were  glad  and  thankful  for  it,  and  the  way 
the  poor  horses  stood  and  longingly  looked  on  as  we 
waited  for  the  inflow  was  pitiable.  At  night  we  camped 
some  twelve  or  fifteen  miles  farther  on,  without  water, 
hobbling  the  horses  and  turning  them  loose.  I  had 
engaged  an  Indian  to  go  with  us  from  Blue  Canyon  as 
helper  and  guide,  so  I  sent  him,  in  the  morning,  to 
bring  in  the  horses.  Two  or  three  hours  later  he  re- 
turned, with  but  one  of  the  animals,  and  said  he  had 
tried  to  track  the  others,  but  could  not  do  so.  Imagine 


20         THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

what  our  predicament  would  have  been,  in  the  heart  of 
the  desert,  without  horses  and  water,  and  many  miles 
away  from  any  settlement.  There  was  but  one  thing 
to  be  done,  and  Mr.  Bass  at  once  did  it.  Putting  a 
bridle  on  the  one  horse,  he  rode  off  barebacked  after 
the  runaways.  Knowing  the  character  of  his  mules,  he 
aimed  directly  for  the  Tnebitoh.  When  he  arrived  at  the 
spot  where  we  had  watered  the  day  before,  he  found 
that,  with  unerring  instinct,  the  horses  had  returned  to 
this  spot  and  had  dug  new  watering  places  for  them- 
selves. Then,  scenting  the  cool  grass  of  the  San 
Francisco  Mountains,  they  had  aimed  directly  west,  and, 
hobbled  though  they  were,  the  tracks  showed  they  were 
travelling  at  a  lively  rate  of  speed.  Knowing  the  ur- 
gency and  desperateness  of  our  case,  Bass  followed  as 
fast  as  he  could  make  his  almost  exhausted  animal  go, 
and  after  an  hour's  hard  riding  saw,  in  the  far-away 
distance,  the  three  perverse  creatures  "hitting"  the 
trailless  desert  as  hard  as  they  could.  Jersey,  a  know- 
ing mule,  was  in  the  lead.  He  soon  saw  Bass,  and, 
seeming  to  communicate  with  the  others,  they  turned 
and  saw  him  also.  Jack  (the  other  mule)  and  the 
horse  at  once  showed  a  disposition  to  stop,  but  Jersey 
with  bite  and  whinney  tried  to  drive  them  on.  Finding 
his  efforts  useless,  he  stopped  with  the  others,  and,  when 
Bass  rode  up,  allowed  himself  to  be  "  necked  "  (tied  neck 
to  neck)  with  the  other  two.  Horses  and  man  were  as 
near  "  played  out "  as  we  cared  to  see  them  when,  later 
in  the  day,  they  returned  to  camp. 

It  does  not  do  to  go  out  upon  the  Painted  Desert 
without  some  practical  person  who  is  capable  of  meeting 
all  serious  emergencies  that  are  likely  to  arise. 

The  next  day  we  drove  on  to  Oraibi,  in  the  scorch- 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     21 

ing  sun,  over  the  sandy  hillocks,  where  no  road  would 
last  an  hour  in  a  wind-storm  unless  it  were  thoroughly 
blanketed  and  pegged  down.  We  were  all  hot,  weary, 
and  ill-tempered.  Thinking  to  help  out,  I  volunteered 
to  walk  up  the  steep  western  trail  to  the  mesa  top  and 
secure  some  corn  at  Oraibi  for  our  horses,  so  that  they 
could  be  fed  at  once  on  reaching  our  stopping  place  on 
the  east  side.  When  we  started  I  had  suggested  the 
hope  that  we  might  be  able  to  stop  in  the  schoolhouse 
below  the  Oraibi  mesa,  as  I  had  several  times  done  in 
times  before;  but  when  the  wagon  arrived  there,  and 
I  came  down  from  the  mesa,  it  was  found  to  be  already 
occupied  by  persons  to  whom  it  had  been  prpmised  by 
the  Indian  agent.  Camping,  then,  was  the  only  thing  left 
open  to  us,  until  I  could  see  the  Hopis  and  rent  one  of 
their  houses.  Down  we  drove  to  the  camp,  where  alone 
a  sufficiency  of  water  was  to  be  found.  This  explains 
our  close  proximity  to  the  camp  of  the  earlier  year. 
We  were  just  preparing  our  meal  when  a  fierce  sand- 
storm blew  up.  Cooking  was  out  of  the  question ;  the 
fire  blew  every  which  way,  and  the  sand  filled  meat, 
beans,  corn,  tomatoes  with  too  much  grit  for  comfort. 
This  was  the  last  straw  that  broke  the  back  of  Mr. 
Britisher's  complacency.  He  had  bemoaned  again  and 
again  the  leaving  of  his  comfortable  home  to  come  into 
this  "  God-forsaken  region,"  in  a  quest  of  what  our  crazy 
westernism  called  pleasure,  and  now  his  fury  burst  upon 
me  in  a  manner  that  dwarfed  the  passion  of  the  heavens 
and  the  earth.  While  there  was  a  refinement  in  his  vitu- 
peration, there  was  an  edge  upon  it  as  keen  as  fury, 
passion,  and  culture  could  give  it.  I  was  scorched  by 
his  scarifying  lightnings,  struck  again  and  again  by  his 
vindictive  thunderbolts,  tossed  hither  and  thither  by 


22         THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

his  stormy  winds,  and  lifted  heavenwards  and  then 
dashed  downwards  by  the  tornadoes  and  whirlwinds 
of  his  passion.  It  was  dazzling,  bewildering,  intensely 
interesting,  and  then  fiercely  irritating.  I  stood  it  all 
until  he  denounced  my  selfishness.  There's  no  doubt 
I  am  selfish,  but  there  is  a  limit  to  a  fellow's  endurance 
when  another  fellow  claims  the  discovery  and  rubs  it  in 
upon  you  until  he  abrades  the  skin.  So  I  raised  my 
hand  and  also  my  voice :  "  Stop,  that 's  enough.  Dare 
to  repeat  that  and  I  '11  tie  you  on  a  horse  and  send  you 
back  to  the  railway  in  charge  of  an  Indian  so  quickly 
that  you  '11  wonder  how  you  got  there.  Selfish,  am  I  ? 
I  permitted  you  to  come  on  this  trip  as  a  favor  to  my 
photographer.  The  paltry  sum  you  paid  me  has  not 
found  one-fourth  share  of  the  corn  for  one  horse, 
let  alone  your  own  food,  the  hire  of  the  horses,  wagon, 
and  driver.  To  oblige  you  I  have  allowed  you  the  whole 
way  to  ride  inside  my  conveyance  that  you  might  talk 
together,  while  I  have  sat  out  in  the  hot  sun.  If  any 
help  has  been  needed  by  Mr.  Bass  in  driving,  I  have 
willingly  given  it  instead  of  calling  upon  you.  I  have 
done  all  the  unpacking  and  the  packing  of  the  wagon 
at  each  camp,  morning,  noon,  and  night.  I  have  done 
all  the  cooking  and  much  of  the  dish-washing,  and  yet 
you  have  the  impudence  and  mendacity  to  say  I  have 
been  selfish.  Very  well !  I  '11  take  myself  at  your 
estimate.  In  future  I  '11  take  my  seat  inside  the  ambu- 
lance ;  you  shall  do  your  share  of  helping  the  driver. 
You  shall  do  your  share  of  the  packing;  and  if  you  eat 
another  mouthful,  so  long  as  you  remain  in  my  camp, 
you  shall  cook  it  yourself.  I  have  spoken !  And  when 
I  thus  speak  I  speak  as  the  laws  of  the  Medes  and 
Persians,  which  alter  not,  nor  change !  " 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION       23 

"  Well, says  you  are  selfish !  "  burst  out  the  some- 
what cowed  man. 

"  Then  I  put  him  on  the  same  plane  as  I  put  you ; 
and  if  ever  either  of  you  dares  to  make  that  charge 
again,  I  will  —  " 

Well,  never  mind  what  I,  in  my,  what  I  still  believe 
to  be,  just  anger  threatened.  I  turned  away,  went  and 
secured  an  Indian's  house,  and  that  night  we  removed 
there. 

But  I  wish  I  had  the  space  to  recount  how  those  two 
unfortunates  and  misfortunates  cooked  their  own  meals 
and  mine  and  Bass's.  It  is  a  subject  fit  for  a  Dickens 
or  a  Kipling.  No  minor  pen  can  do  justice  to  it.  How 
they  came  and  asked  with  quiet  humility,  "  What  are 
we  going  to  have  for  supper?"  and  how  I  replied, 
"  Raw  potatoes,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned  !  "  Neither 
knew  whether  a  frying-pan  was  for  skimming  cream 
from  a  can  of  condensed  milk  or  for  making  charlotte 
russes.  Neither  could  boil  water  without  scorching  it. 
But  surreptitiously  (with  my  secret  connivance)  Bass 
gave  the  tyros  gentle  hints  and  finally  "  licked  them " 
into  fourth-rate  cooks,  so  that  I  reaped  the  reward  of 
their  labors  in  selfishly  and  shamelessly  taking  some 
of  the  concoctions  they  had  slaved  over. 

I  know  this  plain,  unvarnished  tale  reveals  me  a  "  bad 
man  from  Bodie,"  but  I  started  out  to  give  a  truthful 
account  of  the  Painted  Desert  and  its  storms,  and  this 
"  tempest  in  a  frying-pan  "  in  camp  cannot  well  be  ignored 
by  a  veracious  chronicler. 

Last  year,  fate  designed  that  we  camp  at  exactly  the 
same  spot.  The  two  wagons  came  to  rest  at  about 
the  same  place  where  the  ambulance  stood,  and  exactly 
the  same  wind  and  sand-storm  blew  up  before  we  had 


24         THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

been  there  half  an  hour.  I  had  with  me  a  long,  eight- 
feet-high  strip  of  canvas  belonging  to  a  very  large 
circular  tent.  To  ward  off  the  force  of  some  part  of 
the  storm  we  stretched  this  canvas  from  the  trunk  of 
one  cottonwood  tree  to  another,  and  moved  our  camp 
to  the  sheltered  side.  That  was  an  insult  to  the  powers 
of  the  storm.  The  wind  fairly  howled  with  rage,  and 
pulled  and  tugged  and  flapped  that  canvas  in  a  perfect 
fury  of  anger.  Then  as  we  huddled  in  its  shelter,  a 
sudden  jerk  came,  and  up  it  was  ripped,  from  top  to 
bottom,  in  a  moment,  and  the  loose  ends  went  wildly 
flying  and  flapping  every  way.  In  the  blowing  sand  I 
fled  with  the  ladies  to  Mr.  Voth's  ever-hospitable  house, 
but  it  was  as  hot  as  —  well !  no  matter  —  in  there. 
Outside,  the  cottonwoods  were  bowed  over  in  the  fury 
of  the  wind,  and  the  sand  went  flying  by  in  sheets.  It 
was  easy  then  to  understand  the  remark  of  one  experi- 
enced in  the  ways  of  the  Painted  Desert  Region :  "  If 
you  ever  buy  any  real  estate  here,  contract  to  have  it 
anchored,  or  you  '11  wake  up  some  morning  and  find 
it  all  blown  into  the  next  county."  The  flying  sand 
literally  obliterated  every  object  more  than  a  few  feet 
away. 

Now  in  this  last  case  I  had  the  pleasure  —  as  peculiar 
a  pleasure  as  it  is  to  watch  the  coming  of  a  hurricane 
at  sea  —  to  see  the  oncoming  of  this  storm.  We  were 
enjoying  perfect  calm.  Suddenly  over  the  Oraibi  mesa 
there  came  a  great  brown  mass  that  stretched  entirely 
acros*s  the  country.  It  was  the  tawny  sand  risen  in 
power  and  majesty  to  drive  us  from  its  lair.  It  was  so 
grand,  so  sublime,  so  alive,  that  just  as  I  instinctively 
rush  to  my  camera  at  sight  of  an  interesting  face,  I 
dashed  towards  it  to  secure  a  photograph  of  this  new, 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     25 

gigantic,  living  manifestation.  But  in  its  fierce  fury 
it  swept  upon  us  with  such  rapidity  that  I  was  too  late. 
We  were  covered  with  it,  buried  in  it.  As  darkness 
leaps  upon  one  and  absorbs  him,  so  did  this  storm 
absorb  us.  In  an  hour  or  so  its  greatest  fury  subsided ; 
then  we  thought  we  would  build  our  camp-fire  and 
proceed  to  our  regular  cooking.  How  the  wind  veered 
and  changed,  and  changed  again  as  soon  as  the  fire  began 
to  ascend.  That  is  a  point  to  watch  in  building  a  camp- 
fire.  Be  sure  and  locate  it  so  that  its  smoke  won't 
blow  upon  you  when  you  sit  down  to  eat.  In  this  case, 
however,  it  would  not  have  mattered.  In  my  note- 
book I  read :  "  We  have  changed  the  camp-fire  three 
times,  and  no  matter  where  we  put  it,  the  smoke  swoops 
down  upon  us.  Even  now  while  I  write  I  am  half 
blinded  by  the  smoke,  which  ten  minutes  ago  was  being 
blown  in  the  opposite  direction."  So  that  if  these  few 
pages  have  an  unpleasant  odor  of  camp-fire  smoke 
about  them,  the  reader  must  charge  it  to  the  wilful 
ways  of  the  wind  on  the  Painted  Desert. 

Elsewhere  I  have  spoken  of  the  mystery  brooding 
over  the  peoples  of  this  land.  It  is  also  existent  in  the 
very  colors  of  it,  whether  noted  in  early  morning,  in 
the  glare  of  the  pitiless  Arizona  noon,  or  at  sunset ;  in  the 
storm,  with  the  air  full  of  sand,  or  in  the  calm  and  quiet 
of  a  cloudless  sky ;  when  the  sky  is  cerulean  or  black 
with  lowering  clouds ;  ever,  always,  the  color  is  weird, 
strange,  mysterious.  One  night  at  Walpi  several  of 
us  sat  and  watched  the  colorings  in  the  west.  ^Jo 
unacquainted  soul  would  -have  believed  such  could 
exist.  To  describe  it  is  as  impossible  as  to  analyze 
the  feelings  of  love.  It  was  raining  everywhere  in  the 
west ;  and  "  everywhere  "  means  so  much  where  one's 


26        THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

horizon  is  not  limited.  The  eye  there  roams  over  what 
seem  to  be  boundless  distances.  In  all  this  space  rain 
was  falling.  The  sun  had  but  half  an  hour  more  to  live, 
and  it  flooded  the  sky  with  an  orange  crimson.  The 
rain  came  down  in  hairy  streaks  brilliantly  illuminated. 
The  sun  could  be  discerned  only  as  a  dimly  veiled 
face,  with  the  light  shed  below  it  —  none  above  —  in 
graceful  curves.  Then  the  orange  and  crimson  changed 
to  purple,  deepening  and  deepening  into  blackness  until 
day  was  done. 

Sometimes  the  lighting  up  of  the  desert  in  the  early 
morning  gives  it  the  effect  of  a  sea-green  ocean,  and 
then  the  illusion  is  indescribably  wonderful.  At  such 
times,  if  there  are  clouds  in  the  sky,  the  reflections  of 
color  are  as  delicate  and  beautiful  as  the  tintings  of  the 
sea-shells. 

One  night  standing  on  the  mesa  at  Mashonganavi 
looking  east  and  south,  the  vast  ocean-like  expanse 
of  tawny  sand  and  desert  was  converted  by  the  hues  of 
dying  day  into  a  gorgeous  and  resplendent  sea  of  ex- 
quisite and  delicate  color.  On  the  further  side  were 
the  Mogollon  Buttes,  —  the  Giant's  Chair,  Pyramid 
Butte,  and  others,  —  with  long  walls,  which,  in  the  early 
morning  black  and  forbidding,  were  now  illumined  and 
etherealized  by  the  magic  wand  of  sunset. 

If,  however,  one  would  know  another  of  the  marvel- 
lous charms  of  this  Painted  Desert  Region  let  him  see 
it  in  the  early  summer,  after  the  first  rains.  This  may 
be  the  latter  part  of  June  or  in  July  and  August.  Then 
what  a  change !  One  seeing  it  for  the  first  time  would 
naturally  exclaim  in  protest:  "Desert?  Why,  this  is 
a  garden ! " 

A  thin  and  sparse  covering  of  grass,  but  enough  to 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     27 

the  casual  observer  to  relieve  the  whole  land  from 
the  charge  of  barrenness;  the  black  and  white  grama 
grasses,  with  their  delicate  shades  of  green ;  and  a  host 
of  wild  flowers  of  most  exquisite  colors  in  glorious  com- 
binations. Here  masses  of  flaming  marigolds  and  sun- 
flowers ;  yonder  patches  of  the  white  and  purple  tinted 
flowers  of  the  jimson-weed,  while  its  rich  green  leaves 
form  a  complete  covering  for  the  tawny  sand  or  rocky 
desolation  beneath.  Here  are  larkspurs,  baby  blue-eyes, 
Indian's  paint  brush,  daisies,  lilies,  and  a  thousand  and 
one  others,  the  purples,  blues,  reds,  pinks,  whites,  and 
browns  giving  one  a  chromatic  feast,  none  the  less 
delightful  because  it  is  totally  unexpected. 

Then  who  can  tell  of  the  glory  of  the  hundreds  of 
cacti  in  bloom,  great  prickly  monsters,  barrel  shaped, 
cylindrical,  lobe  formed,  and  yet  all  picked  out  in  the 
rarest,  most  dainty  flowers  the  eye  of  man  ever  gazed 
upon?  Look  yonder  at  the  "  hosh-kon,"  one  of  the 
yucca  family,  a  sacred  plant  to  the  Navahoes.  Its 
dagger-like  green  leaves  are  crowned  and  glorified  with 
the  central  stalk,  around  which  cluster  a  thousand  waxen 
white  bells,  and  this  one  is  only  a  beginning  to  the  mar- 
vellous display  of  them  we  shall  see  as  we  ride  along. 
The  greasewood  veils  its  normal  ugliness  in  reviv- 
ified leaves  and  a  delicate  flossy  yellow  bloom  that 
makes  it  charming  to  the  eye.  Even  the  sagebrush 
attains  to  some  charm  of  greenness,  and  where  the  juniper 
and  cedar  and  pine  lurk  in  the  shades  of  some  of  the 
rocky  slopes,  the  deepest  green  adds  its  never-ending 
comfort  and  delight  to  the  scene. 

Yet  you  look  in  vain  for  the  rivers,  the  creeks,  the 
babbling  brooks,  the  bubbling  fountains,  the  ponds,  that 
charm  your  eye  in  Eastern  landscapes.  Oh,  for  the 


28         THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

Adirondacks,  —  the  lakes  and  streams  which  abound  on 
every  hand.  If  only  these  could  be  transplanted  into 
this  desert  to  give  their  peculiar  delights  without  any 
of  their  drawbacks,  then  the  Painted  Desert  Region 
would  be  the  ideal  land. 

It  would  never  do  to  bring  the  Adirondack  flies  and 
gnats  and  mosquitoes ;  its  hot,  sultry  nights  and  muggy, 
sweltering  days.  No!  These  we  can  do  without. 
We  would  have  its  advantages,  but  with  none  of  its 
disadvantages. 

How  futile  such  wishes ;  how  childish  such  longings  ! 
Each  place  is  itself;  and,  for  myself,  I  love  the  Painted 
Desert  even  in  its  waterlessness,  its  barrenness,  and  its 
desolation.  Think  of  its  stimulating  altitude,  its  colors, 
its  clear,  cloudless  sky,  its  glorious,  divine  stars,  its  de- 
licious evening  coolness,  its  never-disturbed  solitudes, 
its  speaking  silences,  its  romances,  its  mysteries,  its 
tragedies,  its  histories.  These  are  some  of  the  things 
that  make  the  Painted  Desert  what  it  is  —  a  region  of 
unqualified  fascination  and  allurement. 


PAINTED   DESERT   REGION       29 


CHAPTER  III 
FIRST  GLIMPSES   OF  THE   HOPI 

THREE  great  fingers  of  rock  from  a  gigantic  and 
misshapen  hand, roughly  speaking,  pointing  south- 
ward, the  hand  a  great  plateau,  the  fingers  mesas  of 
solid  rock  thrust  into  the  heart  of  a  sandy  valley, — 
this  is  the  home  of  the  Hopi,  commonly  and  wrongly 
termed  the  Moki.  The  fingers  are  from  seven  to  ten 
miles  apart,  and  a  visitor  can  go  from  one  finger-nail  to 
another  either  by  descending  and  ascending  the  steep 
trails  zigzagged  on  the  fingers'  sides,  or  he  can  circle 
around  on  the  back  of  the  hand  and  thus  in  a  round- 
about manner  reach  any  one  of  the  three  fingers.  These 
mesa  fingers  are  generally  spoken  of  as  the  first  or 
east  mesa,  the  second  or  middle  mesa,  and  the  third 
or  west  mesa.  They  gain  their  order  from  the  fact 
that  in  the  early  days  of  American  occupancy  Mr. 
T.  V.  Keam  established  a  trading-post  in  the  canyon 
that  bears  his  name,  and  this  canyon  being  to  the  east 
of  the  eastern  mesa,  this  mesa  was  reached  first  in 
order,  the  western  mesa  naturally  being  third. 

On  the  east  mesa  are  three  villages.  The  most  im- 
portant of  all  Hopi  towns  is  Walpi,  which  occupies  the 
"  nail "  of  this  first  "  finger."  It  is  not  so  large  as 
Oraibi,  but  it  has  always  held  a  commanding  influence, 
which  it  still  retains.  Half  a  mile  back  of  Walpi  is 
Sichumavi,  and  still  further  back  Hano,  or,  as  it  is  com- 
monly and  incorrectly  called,  Tewa. 


3o         THE    INDIANS   OF  THE 

About  seven  miles  —  as  the  crow  flies  —  to  the  west  is 
the  second  or  middle  mesa,  and  here  are  Mashonganavi, 
Shipauluvi,  and  on  an  offshoot  from  this  second  mesa, 
separated  from  it  by  a  deep,  sand-filled  ravine,  is 
Shungopavi. 

Ten  miles  farther  to  the  west  is  Oraibi,  which  marks 
the  farthest  western  boundary  of  pueblo  civilization. 

Oh!  the  pathos,  the  woe,  the  untold  but  clearly 
written  misery  of  the  centuries  in  these  cliff-built  houses 
of  the  mesas,  these  residences  that  are  fortresses,  these 
steep  trail-approached  and  precipice-protected  homes. 
In  a  desert  land,  surrounded  by  relentless,  wary,  and 
vigilant  foes,  ever  fighting  a  hard  battle  with  the 
adverse  conditions  of  their  environment,  short  of 
water,  of  firewood,  and  with  food  grown  in  the  desert- 
rescued  lands  below  where  at  any  moment  the  ruthless 
marauder  might  appear,  there  is  no  wonder  that  almost 
every  elderly  face  is  seamed  and  scarred;  furrowed 
deeply  with  the  accumulated  centuries  of  never-ceasing 
care.  Mystery  here  seems  at  first  to  reign  supreme. 
It  stands  and  faces  one  as  a  Presence.  It  hovers  and 
broods,  and  you  feel  it  even  in  your  sleep.  The  air  is 
full  of  it.  The  very  clouds  here  are  mysterious.  Who 
are  these  people?  From  whence  came  they?  What  is 
their  destiny?  What  fearful  battles,  race  hatreds,  dev- 
astating wars,  led  them  to  make  their  homes  on  these 
inaccessible  cliffs?  How  did  they  ever  conceive  such  a 
mass  of  elaborate  ceremonial  as  now  controls  them? 
Solitary  and  alone  they  appear,  a  vast  question  mark, 
viewed  from  every  standpoint.  Whichever  way  one 
looks  at  them  a  great  query  stares  him  in  the  face. 
They  are  the  chief  mystery  of  our  country,  an  anachro- 
nism, an  anomaly  in  our  twentieth-century  civilization. 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     31 

When  we  see  the  ruins  of  Egypt,  India,  Assyria,  we 
look  upon  something  that  is  past.  Those  peoples  were: 
they  pertain  to  the  ages  that  are  gone.  Their  mysteries 
are  of  lives  lived  in  the  dim  ages  of  antiquity.  But 
here  are  antique  lives  being  lived  in  our  own  day; 
pieces  of  century-old  civilizations  transplanted,  in  time 
and  place,  and  brought  into  our  time  and  place;  the 
past  existent  in  the  present;  the  lapse  of  centuries 
forgotten,  and  the  days  of  thousands  of  years  ago  bodily 
transferred  into  our  commercial,  super-cultured,  hyper- 
refined  age. 

The  approach  to  the  first  mesa  from  Ream's  Canyon 
is  through  a  sandy  country,  which,  in  places,  is  dry, 
desolate,  and  bare.  But  here  and  there  are  patches  of 
ground  upon  which  weeds  grow  to  a  great  height, 
plainly  indicating  that  with  cultivation  and  irrigation 
good  crops  could  be  raised.  As  we  leave  the  mouth 
of  the  canyon  the  singular  character  of  this  plateau 
province  is  revealed.  To  the  south  the  sandy  desert, 
in  lonesome  desolation,  stretches  away  as  far  as  the 
eye  can  reach,  its  wearisome  monotony  relieved  only 
by  the  close-by  corn-fields  of  the  Hopis  and  the  peculiar 
buttes  of  the  Mogollons.  With  the  sun  blazing  down 
upon  it,  its  forbidding  barrenness  is  appalling.  Neither 
tree,  shrub,  blade  of  grass,  animal,  or  human  habitation 
is  to  be  seen.  The  sand  reflects  the  sun's  rays  in  a 
yellow  glare  which  is  irritating  beyond  measure,  and 
which  seems  as  if  it  would  produce  insanity  by  its 
unchangeableness. 

To  the  right  of  us  are  the  extremities  of  the  sandstone 
plateaus,  of  which  the  Hopi  mesas  are  the  thrust  out 
fingers.  Here  and  there  are  breaks  in  the  plateau 
which  seem  like  openings  into  rocky  canyons.  Before 


32         THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

us,  ten  or  more  miles  away,  is  the  long  wall  of  the  first 
mesa,  its  falling  precipices  red  and  glaring  in  the  sun. 
Immense  rocks  of  irregular  shape  lie  about  on  its 
summit  as  if  tumbled  to  and  fro  in  some  long-ago- 
forgotten  frolic  of  prehistoric  giants.  Right  before  us, 
and  at  about  the  mid  distances  of  the  "  finger  "  from 
the  main  plateau,  the  mesa  wall  is  broken  down  in  the 
form  of  a  U-shaped  notch  or  gap,  —  from  which  Walpi, 
"  the  place  of  the  gap,"  obtains  its  name ;  and  it  is  on 
the  extremity  of  the  mesa,  beyond  this  notch,  that  the 
houses  of  the  Hopi  towns  can  now  clearly  be  discerned. 
Just  beyond  the  notch  a  little  heap  of  houses,  apparently 
of  the  same  color  as  the  mesa  itself,  appears.  Then  a 
little  vacant  space  and  another  small  heap,  followed  by 
another  vacancy  with  a  larger  heap  at  the  extreme 
end  of  the  mesa.  These  heaps,  beginning  at  the  notch, 
are  respectively  Tewa,  Sichumavi,  and  Walpi. 

Dotting  the  slopes  of  the  talus  at  the  foot  of  the 
mesa  precipices  are  corn-fields,  peach  orchards,  and 
corrals  for  burros,  sheep,  and  goats. 

As  we  approach  nearer  we  see  that  the  first  mesa 
is  rapidly  losing  its  distinctively  Indian  character.  The 
policy  of  the  United  States  Government,  in  its  treatment 
of  these  Indians,  is  to  induce  them,  so  far  as  possible, 
to  leave  their  mesa  homes  and  reside  in  the  valley 
nearer  to  their  corn-fields.  As  their  enemies  are  no 
longer  allowed  to  molest  them,  their  community  life 
on  these  mesa  heights  is  no  longer  necessary,  and  the 
time  lost  and  the  energy  wasted  in  climbing  up  and 
down  the  steep  trails  could  far  better  be  employed  in 
working  in  the  fields,  caring  for  their  orchards,  or 
attending  to  their  stock.  But  while  all  this  sounds 
well  in  theory,  and  on  paper  appears  perfectly  reason- 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     33 

able,  it  fails  to  take  into  consideration  the  influence  of 
heredity  and  the  personal  passions,  desires,  and  feelings 
of  volitional  beings.  As  a  result,  the  government  plan 
is  not  altogether  a  success.  The  Indian  agents,  how- 
ever, have  induced  certain  of  the  Hopis,  by  building 
houses  for  them,  to  consent  to  a  partial  abandonment 
of  their  mesa  homes.  Accordingly,  as  one  draws 
nearer,  he  sees  the  stone  houses  with  their  red-painted 
corrugated-iron  roofs,  the  schoolhouse,  the  blacksmith's 
shop,  and  the  houses  of  the  teachers,  all  of  which  speak 
significantly  of  the  change  that  is  slowly  hovering  over 
the  Indian's  dream  of  solitude  and  desolation. 

But  after  our  camp  is  made  and  the  horses  sent  out 
in  the  care  of  willing  Indians  to  the  Hopi  pastures,  we 
find  that  the  trails  to  the  mesa  summit  are  the  same ; 
the  glaring  yellow  sand  is  the  same ;  the  red  and  gray 
rocks  are  the  same ;  the  fleecy  and  dark  clouds  that 
occasionally  appear  at  this  the  rainy  time  are  the 
same ;  the  glaring,  pitiless  sun  with  its  infernal  scorch- 
ing is  the  same;  and  we  respire  and  perspire  and 
pant  and  struggle  in  our  climb  to  the  summit  in  the 
same  old  arduous  fashion.  Above,  in  Hano,  Sichumavi, 
and  Walpi,  the  pot-bellied,  naked  children,  the  lithe  and 
active  young  men,  the  not  unattractive,  shapely,  and 
kindly-faced  young  women,  with  their  peculiar  sym- 
bolic style  of  hair-dressing,  the  blear-eyed  old  men 
and  women,  the  patient  and  stolid  burros,  the  dim-eyed 
and  pathetic  captive  eagles,  the  quaint  terraced-houses 
with  their  peculiar  ladders,  grotesque  chimneys,  passage-^ 
ways,  and  funny  little  steps,  are  practically  the  same  as 
they  have  been  for  centuries. 

There  are  two  trails  from  the  valley  to  the  summit 
of  the  first  mesa  on  the  east  side,  one  at  the  point,  and 

3 


34         THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

three  on  the  west  side.  We  ascend  by  the  northeastern 
trail,  which,  on  reaching  the  "  Notch  "  or  "  Gap,"  winds 
close  by  an  enclosure  in  which  is  found  a  large  fossil, 
bearing  a  rude  resemblance  to  a  stone  snake.  All 
around  this  fossil,  within  the  stone  enclosure,  are  to 
be  found  "*bahos,"  or  prayer  sticks,  which  have  been 
brought  by  the  devout  as  their  offerings  to  the  Snake 
Divinities.  From  time  immemorial  this  shrine  has 
been  in  existence,  and  no  Hopi  ever  passes  it  without 
some  offering  to  "  Those  Above,"  either  in  the  form 
of  a  baho,  a  sprinkling  of  the  sacred  meal,  the  cere- 
monial smoking  to  the  six  cardinal  points,  or  a  few 
words  of  silent  but  none  the  less  devout  and  earnest 
prayer. 

At  the  head  of  this  trail  is  Hano,  and  from  this  pueblo 
we  can  gain  a  general  idea  of  Hopi  architecture,  for, 
with  differences  in  minor  details,  the  general  styles  are 
practically  the  same.  Where  they  gained  their  archi- 
tectural knowledge  it  is  hard  to  tell,  and  who  they  are 
is  yet  an  unsolved  problem.  It  is  pretty  generally  con- 
ceded, however,  that  all  the  pueblo  peoples  of  Arizona 
and  New  Mexico  —  of  whom  the  Hopis  are  the  most 
western  —  are  the  descendants  of  the  race,  or  races, 
who  dotted  these  territories  and  southern  Colorado 
with  ruins,  and  who  are  commonly  known  as  the  Cliff 
and  Cave  Dwellers.  But  this  is  thrusting  the  diffi- 
culty only  a  few  generations,  or  scores  of  generations, 
further  back.  For  we  are  at  once  compelled  to  the 
agnostic  answer,  "  I  don't  know !  "  when  asked  who  are 
the  Cliff  Dwellers.  Who  they  are  and  whence  they 
came  are  still  problems  upon  which  such  patient  in- 
vestigators as  J.  Walter  Fewkes  is  working.  He  has 
clearly  confirmed  the  decision  of  Bancroft  and  others 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     35 

which  affirmed  the  identity  of  the  Cliff  and  Cave  Dwell- 
ers with  the  Hopis  and  other  pueblo-inhabiting  Indians 
of  the  Southwest. 

Although  of  different  linguistic  stocks  and  religion, 
the  homes  of  the  pueblo  Indians  are  very  similar.  Al- 
most without  exception  the  pueblos  built  on  mesa 
summits  are  of  sandstone  or  other  rock,  plastered 
with  adobe  mud  brought  up  from  the  water-courses 
of  the  valley.  Those  pueblos  that  are  located  in  the 
valley,  on  the  other  hand,  are  generally  built  of 
adobe. 

No  one  can  doubt  that  the  Indians  chose  these  ele- 
vated mesa  sites  for  purposes  of  protection.  With 
but  one  or  two  almost  inaccessible  trails  reaching  the 
heights,  and  these  easily  defendable,  their  homes  were 
their  fortresses.  Their  fields,  gardens,  and  hunting- 
grounds  were  in  the  valleys  or  far-away  mountains, 
whither  they  could  go  in  times  of  peace;  but,  when 
attacked  by  foes,  they  fled  up  the  trails,  established 
elaborate  methods  of  defence,  and  remained  in  their 
fortress-homes  until  the  danger  was  past. 

The  very  construction  of  the  houses  reveals  this.  In 
none  of  the  older  houses  is  there  any  doorway  into 
the  lowest  story.  A  solid  wall  faces  the  visitor,  with 
perhaps  a  small  window-hole.  A  rude  ladder  outside 
and  a  similar  one  inside  afford  the  only  means  of 
entrance.  One  climbs  up  the  ladder  outside,  drops 
through  a  hole  in  the  roof,  and  descends  the  ladder 
inside.  When  attacked,  the  outer  ladder  could  be 
drawn  up,  and  thus,  if  we  remember  the  crude  weapons 
of  the  aborigines  when  discovered  by  the  white  man,  it 
is  evident  that  the  inhabitants  would  remain  in  com- 
parative security. 


36         THE    INDIANS   OF  THE, 

Of  late  years  doors  and  windows  have  been  intro- 
duced into  many  of  the  ancient  houses. 

It  is  a  picturesque  sight  that  the  visitor  to  the  Hopi 
towns  enjoys  as  he  reaches  the  head  of  the  trail  at 
Hano.  The  houses  are  built  in  terraces,  two  or  three 
stories  high,  the  second  story  being  a  step  back  from 
the  first,  so  that  a  portion  of  the  roof  of  the  first  story 
can  be  used^as  the  courtyard  or  children's  playground 
of  the  people  who  inhabit  the  second  story.  The  third 
story  recedes  still  farther,  so  that  its  people  have  a  front 
yard  on  the  roof  of  the  second  story.  At  Zuni  and 
Taos  these  terraces  continue  for  six  and  seven  stories, 
but  with  the  Hopis  never  exceed  three.  The  first  climb 
is  generally  made  on  a  ladder,  which  rests  in  the  street 
below.  The  ladder-poles,  however,  are  much  longer  than 
is  necessary,  and  they  reach  up  indefinitely  towards 
the  sky.  Sometimes  a  ladder  is  used  to  go  from  the 
second  to  the  third  story,  but  more  often  a  quaint  little 
stairway  is  built  on  the  connecting  walls.  Equally 
quaint  are  the  ollas  used  as  chimneys.  These  have 
their  bottoms  knocked  out,  and  are  piled  one  above 
another,  two,  three,  four,  and  sometimes  five  or  six  high. 
Some  of  the  "  terraces  "  are  partially  enclosed,  and  here 
one  may  see  a  weaver's  loom,  a  flat  stone  for  cooking 
piki  (wafer  bread),  or  a  beehive-like  oven  used  for  gen- 
eral cooking  purposes.  Here  and  there  cord-wood  is 
piled  up  for  future  use,  and  now  and  again  a  captive 
eagle,  fastened  with  a  rawhide  tether  to  the  bars  of  a 
rude  cage,  may  be  seen.  The  "  king  of  birds  "  is  highly 
prized  for  his  down  and  feathers,  which  are  used  for  the 
making  of  prayer  plumes  (bahos). 

There  does  not  seem  to  have  been  much  planning  in ' 
the  original  construction  of  the  Hopi  pueblos.     There 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     37 

was  little  or  no  provision  made  for  the  future.  The 
first  houses  were  built  as  needed,  and  then  as  occasion 
demanded  other  rooms  were  added. 

It  will  doubtless  be  surprising  to  some  readers  to 
learn  that  the  Hopi  houses  are  owned  and  built  (in  the 
main)  by  the  women,  and  that  the  men  weave  the 
women's  garments  and  knit  their  own  stockings.  Here, 
too,  the  women  enjoy  other  "rights"  that  their  white 
sisters  have  long  fought  for.  The  home  life  of  the 
Hopis  is  based  upon  the  rights  of  women.  They  own 
the  houses;  the  wife  receives  her  newly  married  hus- 
band into  her  home ;  the  children  belong  to  her  clan, 
and  have  her  clan  name,  and  not  that  of  the  father ;  the 
corn,  melons,  squash,  and  other  vegetables  belong  to 
her  when  once  deposited  in  her  house  by  the  husband. 
She,  indeed,  is  the  queen  of  her  own  home,  hence  the 
pueblo  Indian  woman  occupies  a  social  relationship 
different  from  that  of  most  aborigines,  in  that  she  is  on 
quite  equal  terms  with  her  husband. 

In  the  actual  building  of  the  houses,  however,  the 
husband  is  required  to  perform  his  share,  and  that  is 
the  most  arduous  part  of  the  labor.  He  goes  with 
his  burros  to  the  wooded  mesas  or  cottonwood-lined 
streams  and  brings  the  roof-timbers,  ladder-poles,  and 
door-posts.  He  also  brings  the  heavier  rocks  needed 
in  the  building.  Then  the  women  aid  him  in  placing 
the  heavier  objects,  after  which  he  leaves  them  to  their 
own  devices. 

Being  an  intensely  religious  people,  the  shamans  or 
priests  are  always  called  upon  when  a  new  house  is  to 
be  constructed.  Bahos  —  prayer  plumes  or  sticks  —  are 
placed  in  certain  places,  sacred  meal  is  lavishly  sprinkled, 
and  singing  and  prayer  offered,  all  as  propitiation  to 


38         THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

those  gods  whose  especial  business  it  is  to  care  for  the 
houses. 

It  is  exceedingly  interesting  to  see  the  women  at 
work.  Without  plumb-line,  straight  line,  or  trowel  they 
proceed.  Some  women  are  hod-carriers,  bringing  the 
pieces  of  sand  or  limestone  rock  to  the  "  bricklayers  " 
in  baskets,  buckets,  or  dish  pans.  Others  mix  the  adobe 
to  the  proper  consistency  and  see  that  the  workers  are 
kept  supplied  with  it.  And  what  a  laughing,  chattering, 
jabbering  group  it  is  !  Every  tongue  seems  to  be  going, 
and  no  one  listening.  Once  at  Oraibi  I  saw  twenty- 
three  women  engaged  in  the  building  of  a  house,  and  I 
then  got  a  new  "  side  light "  on  the  story  of  the  Tower 
of  Babel.  The  builders  of  that  historic  structure  were 
women,  and  the  confusion  of  tongues  was  the  natural 
result  of  their  feminine  determination  to  all  speak  at 
once  and  never  listen  to  any  one  else. 

I  photographed  the  builders  at  Oraibi,  and  the  next 
day  contributed  a  new  dress  to  each  of  the  twenty-three 
workers.  Here  are  some  of  their  names :  Wa-ya-wei-i- 
ni-ma,  Mo-o-ho,  Ha-hei-i,  So-li,  Ni-vai-un-si,  Si-ka-ho- 
in-ni-ma,  Na-i-so-wa,  Ma-san-i-yam-ka,  Ko-hoi-ko-cha, 
Tang-a-ka-win-ka,  Hun-o-wi-ti,  Ko-mai-a-ni-ma,  Ke-li- 
an-i-ma. 

The  finishing  of  the  house  is  as  interesting  as  the 
actual  building.  With  a  small  heap  of  adobe  mud  the 
woman,  using  her  hand  as  a  trowel,  fills  in  the  chinks, 
smooths  and  plasters  the  walls  inside  and  out.  Splashed 
from  head  to  foot  with  mud,  she  is  an  object  to  behold, 
and,  as  is  often  the  case,  if  her  children  are  there  to 
"  help "  her,  no  mud-larks  on  the  North  River,  the 
Missouri,  or  the  Thames  ever  looked  more  happy  in 
their  complete  abandonment  to  dirt  than  they.  Then 


HOPI  WOMEN  BUILDING  A  HOUSE  AT  ORAIBI. 


MASHONGANAVI  FROM  THE  TERRACE  BELOW. 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     39 

when  the  whitewashing  is  done  with  gypsum,  or  the 
coloring  of  the  walls  with  a  brown  wash,  what  fun  the 
children  have.  No  pinto  pony  was  ever  more  speckled 
and  variegated  than  they  as  they  splash  their  tiny  hands 
into  the  coloring  matter  and  dash  it  upon  the  walls. 

Inside  the  houses  the  walls  also  are  whitewashed 
or  colored,  and  generally  there  is  some  attempt  made 
to  decorate  them  by  painting  rude  though  symbolic 
designs  half-way  between  the  floor  and  ceiling.  The 
floor  is  of  earth,  well  packed  down  with  water  generally 
mixed  with  plaster,  and  the  ceiling  is  of  the  sustaining 
poles  and  cross-beams,  over  which  willows  and  earth 
have  been  placed.  Invariably  one  can  find  feathered 
bahos,  or  prayer  plumes,  in  the  beams  above,  and  no 
house  could  expect  to  be  prospered  where  these  offer- 
ings to  "  Those  Above  "  were  neglected. 

The  chief  family  room  serves  as  kitchen,  dining-room, 
corn-grinding-room,  bedroom,  parlor,  and  reception- 
room.  In  one  corner  a  quaint,  hooded  fireplace  is 
built,  and  here  the  housewife  cooks  her  piki  and  other 
corn  foods,  boils  or  bakes  her  squash,  roasts,  broils,  or 
boils  the  little  meat  she  is  able  to  secure,  and  sits  during 
the  winter  nights  while  "  the  elders  "  tell  stories  of  the 
wondrous  past,  when  all  the  animals  talked  like  human 
beings  and  the  mysterious  people  —  the  gods  —  from 
the  upper  world  came  down  to  earth  and  associated  with 
mankind. 

The  corn-grinding  trough  is  never  absent.  Some- 
times it  is  on  a  little  raised  platform,  and  is  large  or 
small  as  the  size  of  the  family  demands.  The  trough  is 
composed  either  of  wooden  or  stone  slabs,  cemented 
into  the  floor  and  securely  fastened  at  the  corners  with 
rawhide  thongs.  This  trough  is  then  divided  into 


4o         THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 

three,  four,  or  more  compartments  (according  to  its 
size),  and  in  each  compartment  a  sloping  slab  of  basic 
rock  is  placed.  Kneeling  behind  this,  the  woman  who 
is  the  grinder  of  the  meal  (the  true  lady,  laf-dig,  even 
though  a  Hopi)  seizes  in  both  hands  a  narrower  flat 
piece  of  the  same  kind  of  rock,  and  this,  with  the  motion 
of  a  woman  over  a  washboard,  she  moves  up  and  down, 
throwing  a  handful  of  corn  every  few  strokes  on  the 
upper  side  of  her  grinder.  This  is  arduous  work,  and 
yet  I  have  known  the  women  and  maidens  to  keep 
steadily  at  it  during  the  entire  day. 

When  the  meal  is  ground,  a  small  fire  is  made  of  corn 
cobs,  over  which  an  earthern  olla  is  placed.  When  this 
is  sufficiently  heated  the  meal  is  stirred  about  in  it  by 
means  of  a  round  wicker  basket,  to  keep  it  from  burn- 
ing. This  process  partially  cooks  the  meal,  so  that  it  is 
more  easily  prepared  into  food  when  needed. 

In  one  corner  of  the  house  several  large  ollas  will  be 
found  full  of  water.  Living  as  they  do  on  these  mesa 
heights,  where  there  are  no  springs,  water  is  scarce  and 
precious.  Every  drop,  except  the  little  that  is  caught 
in  rain-time  or  melted  from  the  snows,  has  to  be  carried 
up  on  the  backs  of  the  women  from  the  valley  below. 
In  the  heat  of  summer,  this  is  no  light  task.  With  the 
fierce  Arizona  sun  beating  down  upon  them,  the  feet 
slipping  in  the  hot  sand  or  wearily  pressing  up  on  the 
burning  rocks,  the  olla,  filled  with  water,  wrapped  in  a 
blanket  and  suspended  from  the  forehead  on  the  back, 
becomes  heavier  and  heavier  at  each  step.  Those  of  us 
who  have,  perforce,  carried  cameras  and  heavy  plates  to 
the  mesa  tops  know  what  strength  and  endurance  this 
work  requires. 

For  dippers  home-made  pottery  and  gourcl  shells  are 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     41 

commonly  used.  Now  and  again  one-will  find  the  horn 
of  a  mountain  sheep,  which  has  been  heated,  opened 
out  into  a  large  spoon-like  dipper;  or  a  gnarled  or  knotty 
piece  of  wood,  hacked  out  with  flint  knife  into  a  pretty 
good  resemblance  to  a  dipper. 

Near  the  water  ollas  one  can  generally  see  a  shelf 
upon  which  the  household  utensils  are  placed.  Here, 
too,  when  corn  is  being  ground,  a  half-dozen  plaques 
of  meal  will  stand.  This  shelf  serves  as  pantry  and 
meat  safe  (when  there  is  meat),  and  the  hungry  visitor 
will  seldom  look  there  in  vain  for  a  basket-platter  or 
two  piled  high  with  piki,  the  fine  wafer  bread  for  which 
the  Hopis  are  noted.  Piki  is  colored  in  a  variety  of 
ways.  Dr.  Hough  says  the  ashes  of  Atriplex  canescens 
James  are  used  to  give  the  gray  color,  and  that  Amaran- 
thus  sp.  is  cultivated  in  terrace  gardens  around  the 
springs  for  use  in  dyeing  it  red ;  a  special  red  dye  from 
another  species  is  used  for  coloring  the  piki  used  in  the 
Katchina  dances;  and  the  ashes  of  Parryella  filifolia 
are  used  for  coloring.  Saffron  (Carthamus  tinctorius) 
is  used  to  give  the  yellow  color. 

It  is  fascinating  in  the  extreme  to  see  a  woman  make 
piki.  Dry  corn-meal  is  mixed  with  coloring  matter  and 
water,  and  thus  converted  into  a  soft  batter.  A  large, 
flat  stone  is  so  placed  on  stones  that  a  fire  can  be  kept 
continually  burning  underneath  it.  As  soon  as  the  slab 
is  as  hot  as  an  iron  must  be  to  iron  starched  clothes  it  is 
greased  with  mutton  tallow.  Then  with  fingers  dipped 
in  the  batter  the  woman  dexterously  and  rapidly  sweeps 
them  over  the  surface  of  the  hot  stone.  Almost  as 
quickly  as  the  batter  touches,  it  is  cooked ;  so  to  cover 
the  whole  stone  and  yet  make  even  and  smooth  piki  re- 
quires skill.  It  looks  so  easy  that  I  have  known  many 


42         THE    INDIANS   OF   THE 

a  white  woman  (and  man)  tempted  into  trying  to  make 
it.  Once  while  attending  the  Snake  Dance  ceremonials 
at  Mashonganavi,  a  young  lady  member  of  my  party 
was  sure  she  could  perform  the  operation  successfully. 
My  Hopi  friend,  Kuchyeampsi,  gladly  gave  place  to  the 
white  lady,  and  laughingly  looked  at  me  as  the  latter 
dipped  her  fingers  into  the  batter,  swept  them  over  the 
stone,  gave  a  suppressed  exclamation  of  pain,  tried 
again,  and  then  hastily  rose  with  three  fingers  well 
blistered.  My  cook,  who  was  a  white  man,  was  sure  he 
could  accomplish  the  operation,  so  he  was  allowed  to 
try.  Once  was  enough.  He  was  a  religious  man,  and 
bravely  kept  silence,  which  was  a  good  thing  for  us. 

When  the  piki  is  sufficiently  cooked,  it  is  folded  up 
into  neat  little  shapes  something  like  the  shredded  wheat 
biscuits.  One  thing  I  have  often  noticed  is  that  a  quick 
and  skilful  piki  maker  will  keep  a  sheet  flat,  without 
folding,  so  that  she  may  place  it  over  the  next  sheet 
when  it  is  about  cooked.  This  seems  to  make  it  easier 
to  remove  the  newly  cooked  sheet  from  the  cooking 
slab. 

If  you  are  ever  invited  into  a  Hopi  house  you  may 
rest  assured  you  will  not  be  there  long  before  a  piled- 
up  basket  of  piki  will  be  brought  to  you,  for  the  Hopis 
are  wonderfully  hospitable  and  enjoy  giving  to  all  who 
become  their  guests. 

Another  object  seldom  absent  is  the  "  pole  of  the  soft 
stuff."  This  is  a  pole  suspended  from  the  roof  beams 
upon  which  all  the  blankets,  skins,  bedding,  and  wear- 
ing apparel  are  placed.  Once  upon  a  time  these  were 
very  few  and  very  crude.  The  skins  of  animals  tanned 
with  the  hair  on,  blankets  made  of  rabbit  skins,  and 
cotton  garments  made  from  home  grown,  spun,  and 


O 

o  O 
z 

<     Q 

IS 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     43 

woven  cotton,  comprised  their  "  soft  stuff."  But  when 
the  Spaniards  brought  sheep  into  the  province  of 
Tusayan,  and  the  Hopis  saw  the  wonderful  improvement 
a  wool  staple  was  over  a  cotton  one,  blankets  and 
dresses  of  wool  were  slowly  added  to  the  household 
treasures,  until  now  the  "  garments  of  the  old,"  except 
antelope,  deer,  fox,  and  coyote  skins,  are  seldom  seen. 

It  is  a  remarkable  fact  that  the  Hopis  wore  garments 
made  from  cotton  which  they  grew  themselves,  prior  to 
the  time  of  the  Spanish  invasion.  They  also  knew  how 
to  color  the  cotton  from  unfading  mineral  and  vegetable 
dyes,  and  in  the  graves  of  ancient  cliff  and  cave  dwell- 
ings, well-woven  cotton  garments  often  have  been  taken. 

Sometimes  to-day  one  may  see  an  old  man  or  woman 
weaving  a  blanket  from  the  tanned  skins  of  rabbits. 
Such  a  garment  is  far  warmer  and  more  comfortable 
than  one  would  imagine.  The  dressed  pelts  are  twisted 
around  a  home-woven  string  made  of  shredded  yucca 
fibre,  wild  flax,  or  cotton,  and  thus  a  long  rope  is  formed 
many  yards  in  length.  This  rope  is  then  woven  in 
parallel  strings  with  cross  strands  of  the  same  kind  of 
fibre,  and  a  robe  made  some  five  or  six  feet  square. 

The  windows  of  the  ancient  Hopi  houses  were  either 
small  open  holes  or  sheets  of  gypsum.  Of  late  years 
modern  doors  and  windows  have  been  introduced,  yet 
there  are  still  many  of  the  old  ones  in  existence. 

Having  thus  taken  a  general  and  cursory  survey  of 
Hano,  let  us,  in  turn,  visit  the  six  other  villages  on  the 
mesa  heights  ere  we  look  further  into  the  social  and 
ceremonial  life  of  this  interesting  people. 


44        THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  HOPI  VILLAGES  AND  THEIR  HISTORY 

THE  province  of  Tusayan  is  dotted  over  in  every 
direction  with  ruins,  all  of  which  were  once  in- 
habited by  the  Hopi  people.  Indeed,  even  in  the 
"  pueblo  "  stage  of  their  existence  they  seem  to  have 
retained  much  of  the  restlessness  and  desire  for  change 
which  marked  them  when  "  nomads." 

Traditionary  lore  among  modern  Hopis  asserts  that  the 
well-known  ruin  of  Casa  Grande  was  once  the  home  of 
their  ancestors,  and  Dr.  Fewkes  has  conclusively  shown 
a  line  of  ruins  extending  from  the  Gila  and  Salt  River 
valleys  to  the  present  Hopi  villages.  So  there  is  no 
doubt  but  that  some,  at  least,  of  the  Hopis  came  to 
their  modern  homes  from  the  South.  It  is,  therefore, 
quite  possible  that  such  ruins  as  Montezuma's  Castle 
were  once  Hopi  homes.  Every  indication  seems  to  point 
to  the  fact  that  all  these  ancient  ruins  —  some  of  which 
are  caveate,  others  cliff,  and  still  others  independent 
pueblos,  built  in  the  open,  away  from  all  cliffs  —  were 
occupied  by  a  people  in  dread  of  attack  from  enemies. 
Every  home  has  its  lookout.  Every  field  could  be 
watched.  Nearly  all  the  cliff  and  cave  dwellings  were 
naturally  fortresses,  and  the  open  pueblos  were  so  con- 
structed as  to  render  them  castles  of  defence  to  their 
inhabitants  on  occasion. 

In  these  facts  alone  we  can  see  an  interesting,  though 
to  those  primarily  concerned  a  tragic  state  of  affairs; 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     45 

a  home-loving  people,  sedentary  and  agricultural,  will- 
ing and  anxious  to  live  at  peace,  surrounded  and  per- 
petually harassed  by  wild  and  fierce  nomads,  whose 
delight  was  war,  their  occupation  pillage,  and  their  chief 
gratifications  murder  and  rapine.  The  cliff-  or  cave- 
dwelling  husband  left  his  home  in  the  morning  to  plant 
his  corn  or  irrigate  his  field,  uncertain  whether  the 
night  would  see  him  safe  again  with  his  loved  ones, 
a  captive  in  the  hands  of  merciless  torturers,  or  lying 
dead  and  mutilated  upon  the  fields  he  had  planted. 

No  wonder  they  are  the  Hopituh  —  the  people  of 
peace.  Who  would  not  long  for  peace  after  many 
generations  of  such  environment?  Poor  wretches! 
Every  field  had  its  memories  of  slaughter,  every  canyon 
had  echoed  the  fierce  yells  of  attacking  foes,  the  shrieks 
of  the  dying,  or  the  exultant  shouts  of  the  victors,  and 
every  dwelling-place  had  heard  the  sad  wailing  of 
widows  and  orphans. 

The  union  of  these  people,  under  such  conditions,  in 
towns  became  a  necessity  —  self-preservation  demanded 
cohesion.  That  isolation  and  separation  were  not  un- 
natural or  repulsive  to  them  is  shown  by  the  readiness 
with  which  in  later  times  they  branched  out  and  estab- 
lished new  towns.  These  separations  often  led  to  bitter 
and  deadly  quarrels  among  themselves,  and  elsewhere l 
I  have  related  the  traditional  story  of  the  destruction  of 
a  Hopi  city,  Awatobi,  by  the  inhabitants  of  rival  cities, 
who  in  their  determination  to  be  "  Hopituh  "  —  people 
of  peace — were  willing  to  fight  and  exterminate  their 
neighbors  and  thus  compel  peace. 

Of  the  present  seven  mesa  cities,  towns,  or  villages  of 
the  Hopis,  it  is  probable  that  Oraibi  only  occupies  the 
l  "The  Storming  of  Awatobi,"  The  Chautattquan,  August,  1901. 


46         THE   INDIANS   OF  THE 

same  site  that  it  had  when  first  seen  by  white  men  in 
1540. 

It  will  readily  be  recalled  that  when  Coronado  reached 
Cibola  (Zuni)  and  conquered  it  he  was  sadly  disap- 
pointed at  not  finding  the  piles  of  gold,  silver,  and  pre- 
cious stones  he  and  his  conquistadors  had  hoped  for. 
The  glittering  stories  of  the  gold-strewn  "  Seven  Cities 
of  Cibola  "  were  sadly  proven  to  be  mythical.  But  hope 
revived  when  the  wounded  general  was  told  of  seven 
other  cities,  about  a  hundred  miles  to  the  northwest. 
These  might  be  the  wealthy  cities  they  sought.  Unable 
to  go  himself,  he  sent  his  ensign  Tobar,  with  a  handful 
of  soldiers  and  a  priest,  and  it  fell  to  the  lot  of  these  to 
be  the  first  white  men  to  gaze  upon  the  wonders  of  the 
Hopi  villages. 

Instead  of  finding  them  as  we  now  see  them,  however, 
it  is  pretty  certain  that  the  first  village  reached  was  that 
of  Awatobi,  a  town  now  in  ruins  and  whose  history  is 
only  a  memory.  Standing  on  the  mesa  at  Walpi  and 
looking  a  little  to  the  right  of  the  entrance  to  Ream's 
Canyon,  the  location  of  this  "  dead  city  "  may  be  seen. 

Walpi  occupied  a  terrace  below  where  it  now  is,  and 
Sichumavi  and  Hano  were  not  founded.  At  the  mid- 
dle mesa  Mashonganavi  and  Shungopavi  occupied  the 
foothills  or  lower  terraces,  and  Shipauluvi  was  not  in 
existence. 

What  an  interesting  conflict  that  was,  in  1540,  be- 
tween the  few  civilized  and  well-armed  soldiers  of  Coro- 
nado and  the  warrior  priests  of  Awatobi.  Tobar  and 
his  men  stealthily  approached  the  foot  of  the  mesa  under 
the  cover  of  darkness,  but  were  discovered  in  the  early 
morning  ere  they  had  made  an  attack.  Led  by  the 
warrior  priests,  the  fighting  men  of  the  village  de- 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     47 

scended  the  trail,  where  the  priests  signified  to  the 
strangers  that  they  were  unwelcome.  They  forbade 
their  ascending  the  trail,  and  with  elaborate  ceremony 
sprinkled  a  line  of  sacred  meal  across  it,  over  which  no 
*  one  must  pass.  To  cross  that  sacred  and  mystic  line 
was  to  declare  one's  self  an  enemy  and  to  invite  the 
swift  punishment  of  gods  and  men.  But  Tobar  and  his 
warriors  knew  nothing  of  the  vengeance  of  Hopi  gods 
and  cared  little  for  the  anger  of  Hopi  men,  so  they  made 
a  fierce  and  sharp  onslaught.  When  we  remember  that 
this  was  the  first  experience  of  the  Hopis  with  men  on 
horseback,  protected  with  coats  of  mail  and  metal  hel- 
mets, who  fought  not  only  with  sharpened  swords,  but 
also  slew  men  at  a  distance  with  sticks  that  belched  forth 
fire  and  smoke,  to  the  accompaniment  of  loud  thunder, 
it  can  well  be  understood  that  they  speedily  fell  back 
and  soon  returned  with  tokens  of  submission.  Thus 
was  Awatobi  taken.  After  this  Walpi,  Mashonganavi, 
Shungopavi,  and  Oraibi  were  more  or  less  subjugated. 

In  1680,  as  is  well  known,  Popeh,  a  resident  of  one  of 
the  eastern  pueblos  near  the  Rio  Grande,  conceived  a 
plan  to  rid  the  whole  country  of  the  hated  white  men, 
and  especially  of  the  "  long  robes "  —  the  priests  — 
who  had  forbidden  the  ancient  ceremonies  and  dances, 
and  forcibly  baptized  their  children  into  a  new  faith, 
which  to  their  superstitious  minds  was  a  catastrophe 
worse  than  death.  The  Hopis  joined  in  the  plan, 
though  Awatobi  went  into  it  with  reluctance,  owing  to 
the  kindly  ministrations  of  the  humane  Padre  Porras. 

The  plot  was  betrayed,  but  not  early  enough  to  enable 
the  Spaniards  to  protect  themselves,  and  on  the  day  of 
Santa  Ana,  the  loth  of  August,  1680,  the  whole  white 
race  was  fallen  upon  and  mercilessly  slain  or  driven  out. 


48         THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 

For  the  next  nearly  twenty  years  the  more  timid  of 
the  people  lived  in  dread  of  Spanish  retaliation.  Then 
it  was  that  Hano  was  founded.  Anticipating  the  ar- 
rival of  a  large  force,  a  number  of  Tanoan  and  Tewan 
people  fled  from  the  Rio  Grande  to  Tusayan.  Some* 
of  the  former  went  to  Oraibi,  and  the  latter  asked  per- 
mission to  settle  at  the  head  of  the  Walpi  trail  near  to 
"  the  Gap." 

Possibly  about  this  same  time,  too,  the  villages  located 
on  the  lower  terraces  or  foothills  moved  to  the  higher 
sites,  as  they  were  thus  afforded  better  protection. 

Sichumavi  —  "  the  mound  of  flowers  "  —  was  founded 
about  the  year  1750  by  Walpians  of  the  Badger  Clan, 
who  for  some  reason  or  other  grew  discontented  and 
wished  a  town  of  their  own.  Here  they  were  joined  by 
Tanoans  of  the  Asa  Clan  from  the  Rio  Grande,  who  for 
a  time  had  lived  in  the  seclusion  of  the  Tsegi,  as  the 
Navahoes  term  the  Canyon  de  Chelly  in  New  Mexico. 

Exactly  when  Shipauluvi  was  founded  is  not  known, 
though  its  name  —  "  the  place  of  peaches  "  —  clearly  de- 
notes that  it  must  have  been  after  the  Spanish  inva- 
sion, for  it  was  the  conquerors  who  brought  with  them 
peaches.  Nor  were  peaches  the  only  good  things  the 
Hopis  and  other  American  aborigines  owed  to  the 
hated  foreigners.  They  introduced  horses,  cows,  sheep 
(which  latter  have  afforded  them  a  large  measure  of 
sustenance  and  given  to  them  and  the  Navahoes  the 
material  with  which  to  make  their  useful  rugs  and  blan- 
kets)-, and  goats,  besides  a  number  of  vegetables. 

Here,  then,  about  the  middle  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury the  Hopi  mesa  towns  were  settled  as  we  now  find 
them,  and  doubtless  with  populations  as  near  as  can  be 
to  their  present  numbers. 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     49 

Hano  we  have  already  visited.  Let  us  now,  hastily 
but  carefully,  glance  at  each  of  the  other  villages  as 
they  appear  at  the  present  time. 

Passing  on  to  Sichumavi  from  Hano  we  find  it 
similar  in  all  its  main  features  to  Hano,  except  that 
none  of  its  houses  are  as  high.  In  the  centre  of  the 
town  is  a  large  plaza  where,  in  wet  weather,  a  large  body 
of  rain-water  collects.  This  is  used  for  "  laundry " 
purposes,  as  drink  for  the  burros  and  goats,  and  a  bath- 
ing pond  for  all  the  children  of  the  pueblo.  It  is  one  of 
the  funniest  sights  imaginable  to  see  the  youngsters 
playing  and  frolicking  in  the  water  by  the  hour,  —  I 
should  have  said  liquid  mud,  for  the  filth  that  accu- 
mulates in  this  plaza  reservoir  is  simply  indescribable. 
Children  of  both  sexes,  their  brown,  swarthy  bodies 
utterly  indifferent  to  the  piercing  darts  of  the  sun,  lie 
down  in  this  liquid  filth,  roll  over,  splash  one  another, 
run  to  and  fro,  and  enjoy  themselves  hugely,  even  in 
the  presence  of  the  white  visitor,  until  a  glimpse  of  the 
dreaded  camera  sends  them  off  splashing,  yelling,  ges- 
ticulating, and  some  of  them  crying,  to  the  nearest 
shelter. 

That  supereminence  of  Hopi  character  is  conserva- 
tism is  shown  as  one  walks  from  Sichumavi  to  Walpi. 
Here  is  a  literal  exemplification  demonstrating  how 
the  present  generations  "  tread  in  the  footsteps "  of 
their  forefathers.  The  trail  over  which  the  bare  and 
moccasined  feet  of  these  people  have  passed  and  re- 
passed  for  years  is  worn  down  deep  into  the  solid  sand- 
stone. The  springy  and  yielding  foot,  unprotected 
except  by  its  own  epidermis  or  the  dressed  skin  of  the 
goat,  sheep,  or  deer,  has  cut  its  way  into  the  unyield- 
ing rock,  thus  symbolizing  the  power  of  an  unyielding 


50         THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 

purpose  and  demonstrating  the  force  of  an  unchangeable 
conservatism. 

Between  these  two  pueblos  the  mesa  becomes  so 
narrow  that  we  walk  on  a  mere  strip  of  rock,  deep 
precipices  on  either  side.  To  the  left  are  Ream's  Can- 
yon and  the  road  over  which  we  came ;  to  the  right  are 
the  gardens,  corn-fields,  and  peach  orchards,  leading 
the  eye  across  to  the  second  mesa,  on  the  heights  of 
which  are  Mashonganavi  and  Shipauluvi. 

These  gardens  and  corn-fields  are  the  most  potent 
argument  possible  against  the  statements  of  ignorant 
and  prejudiced  white  men  who  claim  that  the  Indians  — 
Hopis  as  well  as  others  —  are  lazy  and  shiftless. 

If  a  band  of  white  men  were  placed  in  such  a  sit- 
uation as  the  Hopis,  and  compelled  to  wrest  a  living 
from  the  sandy,  barren,  sun-scorched  soil,  there  are 
few  who  would  have  faith  and  courage  enough  to  at- 
tempt the  evidently  hopeless  task.  But  with  a  patience 
and  steadiness  that  make  the  work  sublime,  these  heroic 
bronze  men  have  sought  out  and  found  the  spots  of 
sandy  soil  under  which  the  water  from  the  heights  per- 
colates. They  have  marked  the  places  where  the  sum- 
mer's freshets  flow,  and  thus,  relying  upon  sub-irrigation 
and  the  casual  and  uncertain  rainfalls  of  summer,  have 
planted  their  corn,  beans,  squash,  melons,  and  chili, 
carefully  hoeing  them  when  necessary,  and  each  season 
reap  a  harvest  that  would  not  disgrace  modern  scientific 
methods. 

All  throughout  these  corn-fields  temporary  brush 
sun-shelters  are  seen,  under  which  the  young  boys  and 
girls  sit,  scaring  away  the  birds  and  watching  lest  any 
stray  burro  should  enter  and  destroy  that  which  has 
grown  as  the  result  of  so  much  labor. 


AN  ORAIBI  WOMAN  SHELLING  CORN  IN  A  BASKET  OF  YUCCA  FIBRE. 


THE  "  BURRO"   OF  HOPI  TRANSPORTATION. 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     51 

Here,  too,  in  the  harvesting  time  one  may  witness 
busy  and  interesting  scenes.  Whole  families  move 
down  into  temporary  brush  homes,  and  women  and 
children  aid  the  men  in  gathering  the  crops.  Tethered 
and  hobbled  burros  stand  patiently  awaiting  their  share 
of  the  common  labor. 

Yonder  is  a  group  of  men  busy  digging  a  deep  pit. 
Watch  them  as  it  nears  completion.  It  is  made  with 
a  narrow  neck  and  "  bellies  "  out  to  considerable  width 
below.  Indeed,  it  is  shaped  not  unlike  an  immense  vase 
with  a  large,  almost  spherical  body  and  narrow  neck. 
In  depth  it  is  perhaps  six,  eight,  ten,  or  a  dozen  feet 
On  one  side  a  narrow  stairway  is  cut  into  the  earth 
leading  down  to  its  base,  and  at  the  foot  of  this  stairway 
a  small  ..hole  is  cut  through  into  the  chamber.  Our 
curiosity  is  aroused.  What  is  this  subterranean  place 
for?  As  we  watch,  the  workers  bring  loads  of  grease- 
wood  and  other  inflammable  material,  kindle  a  fire  in  the 
chamber,  and  fill  it  up  with  the  wood.  Now  we  see  the 
use  of  the  small  hole  at  the  foot  of  the  stairway.  It 
acts  as  a  draught  hole,  and  soon  a  raging  furnace  fire  is 
in  the  vault  before  us.  When  a  sufficient  heat  has  been 
obtained,  the  bottom  hole  is  closed,  and  then  scores  of 
loads  of  corn  on  the  cob  are  dropped  into  the  heated 
chamber.  When  full,  every  avenue  that  could  allow  air 
to  enter  is  sealed,  and  there  the  corn  remains  over 
night  or  as  long  as  is  required  to  cook  it,  —  self-steam 
it.  It  is  then  removed,  packed  in  sacks  or  blankets  on 
the  backs  of  the  patient  burros,  and  removed  to  the  corn- 
rooms  of  the  houses  on  the  mesa  above. 

Other  fresh  corn  is  carried  up  and  spread  out  on  the 
house-tops  to  dry. 

All  this  is  stored  away  in  the  corn-rooms,  into  which 


52         THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

strangers  sometimes  are  invited,  but  oftener  kept  away 
from.  It  is  stacked  up  in  piles  like  cord- wood,  and 
happy  is  that  household  whose  corn-stack  is  large  at 
the  beginning  of  a  hard  winter. 

Walpi  —  the  place  of  the  gap  —  though  not  a  large 
town,  is  better  known  to  whites  than  any  of  the  other 
Hopi  towns.  Here  it  was  that  the  earliest  visitors  came 
and  saw  the  thrilling  Snake  Dance.  Its  southeastern 
trail,  with  the  wonderful  detached  rock  leaning  over 
on  one  side  and  the  cliff  on  the  other,  between  which 
the  steep  and  rude  stairway  is  constructed,  has  been  so 
often  pictured,  as  well  as  the  so-called  "  Sacred  Rock  " 
of  the  Walpi*  dance  plaza,  that  they  are  now  as  familiar 
as  photographs  of  Trinity  Church,  New  York,  or  St. 
Paul's,  London.  As  one  stands  on  the  top  of  one  of 
the  houses  he  sees  how  closely  Walpi  has  been  built. 
It  covers  the  whole  of  the  south  end  of  the  mesa,  tip 
to  the  very  edges  of  the  precipice  walls  in  three  of  its 
four  directions,  and,  as  already  shown,  the  fourth  is  the 
narrow  neck  of  rock  connecting  Walpi  with  Sichumavi 
and  Hano.  The  dance  plaza  is  to  the  east,  a  long, 
narrow  place,  at  the  south  end  of  which  is  the  "  Sacred 
Rock."  It  is  approached  from  south  and  north  by  the 
regular  "street"  or  trail,  and  one  may  leave  it  to  the 
west  through  an  archway,  over  which  is  built  one  of 
the  houses. 

Several  ruins  on  the  east  mesa  are  pointed  out  as 
"  Old  "  Walpi,  and  the  name  of  one  of  these  —  Nusaki  — 
(also  known  as  Kisakobi)  is  a  clear  indication  that  at 
one  time  the  Spaniards  had  a  mission  church  there. 
A  Walpian,  Pauwatiwa,  shows,  with  pride,  an  old 
carved  beam  in  his  house  which  all  Hopis  say  came 
from  the  mission  when  it  was  destroyed.  On  the  ter- 


PAINTED    DESERT  REGION     53 

races  just  below  the  mesa-top  —  perhaps  a  hundred  or 
two  hundred  feet  down  —  are  a  number  of  tiny  corrals, 
to  and  from  which,  morning  and  evening,  the  boys, 
young  men,  and  sometimes  the  women  and  girls  may  be 
seen  driving  their  herds  of  sheep  and  goats,  and  in 
which  the  burros  are  kept  when  not  in  use.  These  pic- 
turesque corrals  from  below  look  almost  like  swallows' 
nests  stuck  on  the  face  of  the  cliffs. 

As  we  wander  about  in  the  narrow  and  quaint  streets 
of  Walpi  we  cannot  fail  to  observe  the  ladder-poles 
which  are  thrust  through  hatchways,  down  which  we 
peer  into  the  darkness  below  with  little  satisfaction. 
These  lead  to  the  kivas,  or  sacred  ceremonial  chambers, 
where  all  the  secret  rites  of  the  different  clans  are  held. 
Here  we  shall  be  privileged  to  enter  if  no  ceremony  is 
going  on.  The  kivas  are  generally  hewn  out  of  the  solid 
rock,  or  partially  so,  and  are  from  twelve  to  eighteen 
feet  square.  When  not  otherwise  occupied  it  is  no  un- 
common sight  to  see  in  a  kiva  a  Hopi  weaver  squatted 
before  his  rude  loom,  making  a  dress  for  his  wife  or 
daughter,  or  weaving  a  ceremonial  sash  or  kilt  for  his 
own  use  in  one  of  the  many  dances. 

In  every  Hopi  town  one  cannot  fail  to  be  struck  with 
the  nudity  of  the  children  of  all  ages,  from  the  merest 
babies  up  to  eight  and  even  ten  years.  With  what 
Victor  Hugo  calls  "  the  chaste  indecency  of  childhood  " 
these  fat,  bronze  Cupids  and  embryo  Venuses  romp  and 
play,  as  unconscious  of  their  nakedness  as  Adam  and 
Eve  before  their  fall. 

From  Walpi  we  descend  to  the  corn-fields,  and,  after 
a  slow  and  tedious  drag  across  the  sandy  plain  to  the 
west,  find  ourselves  at  Mashonganavi,  or  at  least  at  the 
foot  of  the  trail  which  leads  to  the  heights  above.  Here, 


54         THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

as  at  the  other  mesas,  there  are  two  or  three  trails,  all 
steep,  all  nerve-wrenching,  all  picturesque.  Arrived  at 
the  village,  we  find  Mashonganavi  an  interesting  place, 
for  it  is  so  compactly  built  that  one  often  hunts  in  vain 
(for  a  while,  at  least)  to  find  the  hidden  dance  plaza, 
around  which  the  whole  town  seems  to  be  built.  Some 
of  the  houses  are  three  stories  high,  and  there  are  quaint, 
narrow  alley-ways,  queer  dark  tunnels,  and  underground 
kivas  as  at  Walpi.  The  Antelope  and  Snake  kivas  are 
situated  on  the  southeastern  side  of  the  village,  on  the 
very  edge  of  the  mesa,  and  with  the  tawny  stretch  of 
the  Painted  Desert  leading  the  eye  to  the  deep  purple 
of  the  Giant's  Chair  and  others  of  the  Mogollon  buttes, 
which  Ives  conceived  as  great  ships  in  the  desert,  sud- 
denly and  forever  arrested  and  petrified. 

About  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  below  the  village  is 
a  terrace  which  almost  surrounds  the  Mashonganavi 
mesa,  as  a  rocky  ruff  around  its  neck.  This  terrace  is 
so  connected  with  the  main  plateau  that  one  can  drive 
upon  it  with  a  wagon  and  thus  encamp  close  to  the 
village.  Here  in  1901  the  two  wagon  loads  of  sight- 
seers and  tourists  which  I  had  guided  to  the  mysteries 
and  delights  of  Tusayan,  over  the  sandy  and  scorched 
horrors  of  a  portion  of  the  Painted  Desert,  encamped, 
during  the  last  days  of  the  Snake  Dance  ceremonies. 

From  here  a  trail  —  at  its  head  an  actual  rock  stair- 
way —  leads  down  to  a  spring  in  the  valley,  where  the 
government  school  is  situated,  and  from  whence  all  our 
cooking  and  drinking  water  had  to  be  brought.  Each 
morning  and  evening  droves  of  sheep  and  goats  passed 
our  camp,  coming  up  from  below  and  going  down  to  the 
scant  pasturage  of  the  valley.  Scarcely  an  hour  passed 
when  some  Indian  —  oftener  half  a  dozen  —  came  to 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     55 

our  camp,  and  failed  to  pass.  Especially  at  meal  times, 
when  the  biscuits  were  in  the  oven,  the  stew  on  the  fire, 
the  beans  in  the  pot,  and  the  dried  fruit  in  the  stew- 
kettle,  did  they  seem  to  enjoy  visiting  us.  And  they 
liked  to  come  close,  too ;  far  too  close  for  our  comfort, 
as  their  persons  are  not  always  of  the  most  cleanly 
character,  and  their  habits  of  the  most  decorous  and 
refined.  Hence  rules  had  to  be  laid  down  which  it  was 
my  province  to  see  observed,  one  of  which  was  that  visit- 
ing Indians  must  keep  to  a  distance,  especially  at  meal 
times.  Another  was  that  if  our  blankets  were  allowed 
to  remain  unrolled  (in  order  to  get  the  direct  benefit 
of  the  sun's  rays)  they  were  not  so  left  for  our  Indian 
friends  to  lounge  upon. 

We  were  generally  a  hungry  lot  as  we  sat  or  squatted 
around  our  canvas  tablecloth,  our  table  the  rocky 
ground,  and  there  was  scant  ceremony  when  ceremony 
stood  in  the  way  of  appeasing  our  appetites.  But  we 
were  not  wasteful.  If  there  were  any  "  scraps  "  or  any 
small  remains  on  a  plate  or  dish  they  were  "  saved 
for  the  Indians."  So  that  at  length  it  became  a  catch- 
word with  us.  If  there  was  anything,  anywhere,  at  any 
time,  that  we  did  not  like,  some  one  of  the  party  was 
sure  to  suggest  that  it  be  "  saved  for  the  Indians."  And 
that  has  often  since  suggested  to  me  our  national  policy 
in  treating  the  Amerind.  There  is  too  much  national 
"  Save  that  for  the  Indians."  Land  that  is  no  good  to 
a  white  man  —  save  it  for  the  Indians.  Beef  cattle  that 
white  men  don't  buy  —  save  them  for  the  Indians. 
Spoiled  flour  —  save  it  for  the  Indians.  Seeds  that 
won't  grow  —  ship  'em  to  the  Indians. 

And  that  reminds  me  of  a  now  not  undistinguished 
artist  who  once  accompanied  a  small  party  of  mine 


56         THE   INDIANS    OF  THE 

some  years  ago  to  the  Snake  Dance  at  Oraibi.  I  came 
down  to  camp  one  day  and  found  him  cooking  several 
slices  of  our  finest  ham,  dishing  up  our  choicest  and 
scarcest  vegetables,  crackers,  and  delicacies,  with  a 
large  pot  of  our  most  expensive  coffee  simmering  and 
steaming  by  the  camp-fire ;  and  when  I  asked,  "  For 
whom?"  was  coolly  told  it  was  for  three  lazy,  fat, 
lubberly,  dirty  Oraibis,  who  sat  in  delightful  anticipation 
around  the  pump  close  by. 

My  .objection  to  this  use  of  our  provisions  was  ex- 
pressed in  forceful  and  vigorous  Anglo-Saxon,  and 
when  I  was  told  it  was  "  none  of  my  business,"  I  em- 
phasized my  objection  with  a  distinct  refusal  to  allow 
my  provisions  to  be  thus  used.  Then  for  half  an  hour 
immediately  afterwards,  and  for  days  subsequently,  at 
intervals,  I  was  regaled  with  vocal  chastisement  worthy 
to  be  ranked  with  Demosthenes'  "  Philippics."  "  The 
Indian  was  a  man  and  a  brother.  We  were  Christians, 
indeed,  and  of  a  truth  when  we  would  see  our  poor 
red  brother  starve  to  death  before  our  sight,"  etc., 
ad  libitum. 

Now  between  my  artist  friend's  course  and  the  one 
first  named  the  happy  mean  lies.  I  do  not  believe  we 
should  give  to  the  Indian  only  the  scraps  that  fall 
from  our  national  table;  neither,  on  the  other  hand, 
do  I  believe  we  are  called  upon  to  give  him  the  very 
best  of  our  foods  and  provide  special  coffee  at  seventy- 
five  cents  a  pound. 

And  this  sermon  has  occupied  our  time,  by  the  way, 
as  we  have  walked  up  the  trail,  by  the  Mashonganavi 
kivas  to  a  spot  from  which  we  gain  a  good  view  of  the 
village  and  of  Shipauluvi  on  its  higher  and  detached 
pinnacle  a  mile  farther  back.  Again  descending  the 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     57 

trail  to  the  terrace  below,  we  walk  half  a  mile  and  then 
begin  the  ascent  of  a  steep  stone  stairway,  carefully 
constructed,  that  leads  us  directly  to  Shipauluvi.  This 
is  a  small  town,  occupying  almost  the  whole  of  the  dizzy 
site,  with  its  few  houses  built  around  its  rectangular 
plaza. 

Here  I  was  once  present  at  a  witchcraft  trial.  It  was 
a  complicated  affair,  in  which  the  dead  and  living, 
Navahoes  and  Hopis,  were  intertwined.  A  Hopi  woman 
accused  a  Navaho  of  having  bewitched  her  husband, 
thus  causing  his  death,  and  of  stealing  from  him  a 
blanket  and  some  sheep.  The  evidence  showed  that 
the  Navaho  had  met  the  Hopi,  and  that  soon  afterwards 
he  was  taken  sick  and  died,  whereupon  the  sheep  and 
blanket  were  found  in  the  possession  of  the  Navaho. 
There  was  little  doubt  of  its  being  a  case  of  theft,  and 
the  Navaho  was  ordered  to  return  sheep  and  blanket, 
but  he  was  exonerated  from  the  charge  of  witchcraft. 

Living  in  Shipauluvi  is  one  of  those  singular  anom- 
alies so  often  found  in  the  pueblos,  an  albino  woman. 
There  are  a  dozen  or  so  living  in  the  other  villages. 
With  Hopi  face,  but  white  hair  and  skin,  pink  eyes, 
and  general  bleached-out  appearance,  they  never  fail 
to  excite  the  greatest  surprise  in  the  mind  of  the 
stranger,  and  to  those  who  see  them  often  there  is  still 
a  lingering  wonder  as  to  the  cause  of  so  singular  a 
variation  of  physical  appearance.  At  Mashonganavi 
there  are  two  men  albinos,  one  of  them  one  of  the 
Snake  priests.  It  is  claimed  by  the  Indians  that  these 
albinos  are  of  as  pure  Hopi  blood  as  those  who  are 
normal  in  color,  and  the  fact  is  incontrovertible  that 
they  are  born  of  pure-blooded  parents  on  both  sides. 

Returning  now  to  the  terrace  below,  common  to  both 


58         THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

Mashonganavi  and  Shipauluvi,  the  trail  is  descended  to 
Shungopavi.  A  deep  canyon  separates  the  mesa  upon 
which  this  village  is  built  from  the  one  upon  which  the 
two  former  are  located.  Near  the  foot  of  the  trail  the 
government  has  established  a  schoolhouse,  and  close  by 
are  the  springs  and  pools  of  water.  It  is  a  sandy  ride 
or  walk,  and  on  a  hot  day  —  "a-tu-u-u"  —  wearisome 
and  exhausting.  For  half  a  dollar  or  so  one  may  hire 
a  burro  and  his  owner  as  guide,  and  it  is  much 
easier  to  go  burro-back  over  the  yielding  sand  than  to 
walk.  There  are  straggling  peach  trees  on  the  way, 
and  a  trail,  rocky  and  steep,  to  ascend  ere  we  see 
Shungopavi. 

The  wagons  may  be  driven  to  the  village  (as  mine 
were),  but  it  is  a  long  way  around.  The  road  to  Oraibi 
across  the  mesa  is  taken,  and  when  about  half-way 
across  a  crude  road  is  followed  which  runs  out  upon 
the  "  finger  tip  "  where  Shungopavi  stands.  Here  the 
governor  in  1901  was  Lo-ma-win-i,  and  he  and  I  became 
very  good  friends.  Knowing  my  interest  in  the  Snake 
Dance,  he  sent  for  the  chief  priests  of  the  Snake  and 
Antelope  Clans  (Kai-wan-i-wi-ya-u-ma'  and  Lo-ma-ho- 
in-i-wa),  and  from  them  I  received  a  cordial  invitation  to 
be  present  and  participate  in  the  secret  ceremonials  of 
the  kiva  at  their  next  celebration.  I  have  been  privi- 
leged to  be  present,  but  was  never  invited  before. 

The  governor  is  an  expert  silversmith,  the  necklace 
he  wears  being  a  specimen  of  his  own  art.  It  is  won- 
derful how,  with  their  crude  materials  and  tools,  such 
excellent  work  can  be  produced.  Mexican  dollars 
are  melted  in  a  tiny  home-made  crucible,  rude  moulds 
are  carved  out  of  sand-  or  other  stone  into  which  the 
melted  metal  is  poured,  and  then  hand  manipulation, 


PAINTED   DESERT   REGION     59 

hammering,  and  brazing  complete  the  work.  Their 
silver  articles  of  adornment  are  finger  rings,  bracelets, 
and  necklaces. 

Oraibi  is  the  most  western  and  conservative  of  the 
Hopi  villages.  It  is  by  far  the  largest,  having  perhaps 
a  third  of  the  whole  population.  It  is  divided  into  two 
factions,  the  so-called  hostiles  and  friendlies,  the  former 
being  the  conservative  element,  determined  not  to  for- 
sake "  the  ways  of  the  old,"  the  ways  of  their  ancestors ; 
and  the  latter  being  generally  willing  to  obey  orders 
ostensibly  issued  by  "  Wasintonia  "  —  as  they  call  the 
mysterious  Indian  Department.  These  divisions  are 
a  source  of  great  sorrow  to  the  former  leaders  of  the 
village.  In  the  introduction  to  "The  Oraibi  Soyal 
Ceremony  "  by  Professor  George  A.  Dorsey,  of  the  Field 
Columbian  Museum,  and  Rev.  H.  R.  Voth,  his  assist- 
ant, and  formerly  a  Mennonite  missionary  at  Oraibi,  this 
dissension  is  spoken  of  as  follows :  "  During  the  year 
1891  representatives  of  the  Indian  Department  made 
strenuous  efforts  to  secure  pupils  for  the  government 
school  located  at  Ream's  Canyon,  about  forty  miles 
from  Oraibi.  This  effort  on  the  part  of  the  government 
was  bitterly  resented  by  a  certain  faction  of  the  people 
of  Oraibi,  who  seceded  from  Lolulomai,  the  village 
chief,  and  soon  after  began  to  recognize  Lomahungyoma 
as  leader.  The  feeling  on  the  part  of  this  faction 
against  the  party  under  Lolulomai  was  further  intensi- 
fied by  the  friendly  attitude  the  Liberals  took  toward 
other  undertakings  of  the  government,  such  as  allot- 
ment of  land  in  severalty,  the  building  of  dwelling-houses 
at  the  foot  of  the  mesa,  the  gratuitous  distribution  of 
American  clothing,  agricultural  implements,  etc.  The 
division  thus  created  manifested  itself  not  only  in  the 


60        THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

everyday  life  of  the  people,  but  also  in  their  religious 
ceremonies.  Inasmuch  as  the  altars  and  their  acces- 
sories are  the  chief  elements  in  these  ceremonies,  they 
soon  became  the  special  object  of  controversy,  each 
party  contending  for  their  possession ;  and  so  it  came 
about  that  the  altars  remained  to  that  faction  to  which 
the  chief  priests  and  those  who  had  them  in  charge 
belonged,  the  members  of  the  opposing  faction,  as 
a  rule,  withdrawing  from  further  participation  in  the 
celebration  of  the  ceremony." 

The  dance  plaza  is  on  the  wesjtern  side  of  the  village, 
and  there  the  dances  and  other  outdoor  ceremonies  take 
place. 

One  of  my  earliest  visits  to  Oraibi  was  made  in  the 
congenial  company  of  Major  Constant  Williams,  who 
was  then    the  United   States    Indian  Agent,  at    Fort 
Defiance,  for  the  Navahoes  and  Hopis.    We  had  driven 
across  the  Navaho  Reservation  from  Fort  Defiance  to 
Keam's  Canyon,  and  then  visited  the  mesas  in  succes- 
sion.    We  drove  to  the  summit  of  the  Oraibi  mesa  in 
his  buckboard,  a  new  conveyance  which  he  had  had 
made  to  order  at  Durango,  Colo.     The  road  was  the 
same  one  up  which  the  soldiers  had  helped  the  horses 
drag  the  Gatling  gun  at  the  time  of  the  arrest  of  the 
so-called  "  hostiles,"  who  were  sent  to  Alcatraz  for  their 
refusal  to   forsake   their   Oraibi   ways  and   follow   the 
"  Washington  way."     It  was  a  steep,  ugly  road,  rough, 
rocky,  and  dangerous.    The  Major's  horses,  however, 
were  strong,  intelligent,  and   willing,  so  we   made  the 
ascent  with  comparative  ease.    The   return,  however, 
was  different.    There  were  so  many  things  of  interest 
at  Oraibi  that  I  found  it  hard  to  tear  myself  away,  and 
the  "  shades  of  night  were  falling  fast "  —  far  too  fast 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     61 

for  the  Major's  peace  of  mind  —  ere  I  returned  to  the 
buckboard.  By  the  time  we  had  traversed  the  summit 
of  the  mesa  to  the  head  of  the  "trail"  part  of  the 
descent,  it  was  dark  enough  to  make  the  cold  tremors 
perambulate  up  and  down  one's  spine.  But  I  had  every 
confidence  in  the  Major's  driving,  his  horses,  and  his 
knowledge  of  that  fearfully  precipitous  and  dangerous 
road.  Slowly  we  descended,  the  brake  scraping  and 
often  entirely  holding  the  wheels.  We  could  see  and 
feel  the  dark  abysses,  first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the 
other,  or  feel  the  overshadowing  of  the  mighty  rock 
walls  which  towered  above  us.  I  was  congratulating 
myself  that  we  had  passed  all  the  dangerous  places,  and 
in  a  few  moments  should  be  on  the  drifted  sand,  which, 
though  steep,  was  perfectly  safe,  when  we  came  to  the 
last  "  drop  off."  This  can  best  be  imagined  by  calling 
it  what  it  was,  a  steep,  rocky  stairway,  of  two  or  three 
steps,  with  a  precipice  on  one  side,  and  a  towering  wall 
on  the  other.  Hugging  the  wall,  the  upper  step  ex- 
tended like  a  shelf  for  eight  or  ten  feet,  and  the  nigh 
horse,  disliking  to  make  the  abrupt  descent  of  the  step, 
clung  close  to  the  wall  and  walked  along  the  shelf.  The 
off  horse  dropped  down.  The  result  can  be  imagined. 
One  horse's  feet  were  up  at  about  the  level  of  the 
other's  back.  The  wheels  followed  their  respective 
horses.  The  nigh  wheels  stayed  on  the  shelf,  the  off 
wheels  came  down  the  step.  The  Major  and  I  decided, 
very  suddenly,  to  leave  the  buckboard.  We  were  rudely 
toppled  out,  down  the  precipice  on  the  left,  —  I  at  the 
bottom  of  the  heap.  Down  came  camera  cases,  tripods, 
boxes  of  plates,  and  all  the  packages  of  odds  and  ends 
I  had  bought  from  the  Indians,  bouncing  about  our 
ears.  Like  a  flash  the  two  horses  took  fright  and  started 


62         THE    INDIANS   OF   THE 

off,  dragging  that  overturned  buckboard  after  them. 
They  did  not  swirl  around  to  the  left  down  the  sandy 
road,  but  to  the  right  upon  a  terrace  of  the  rocky  mesa, 
and  we  saw  the  sparks,  fly  as  the  ironwork  of  the  wagon 
struck  and  restrack  the  rocks.  The  noise  and  roar  and 
clatter  were  terrific.  Great  rocks  were  started  to  roll- 
ing, and  the  echoes  were  enough  to  awaken  the  dead. 
Suddenly  there  was  a  louder  crash  than  ever,  and  then 
all  was  silent.  We  felt  our  hearts  thumping  against 
our  ribs,  and  the  only  sounds  we  could  hear  were 
their  fierce  beatings  and  our  own  hard  breathing. 
Fortunately,  we  had  landed  on  a  narrow  shelf  some 
seven  feet  down,  covered  deep  with  sand,  so  neither  of 
us  was  seriously  hurt  except  in  our  feelings;  but 
imagine  the  dismay  that  swept  aside  all  thoughts  of 
thankfulness  for  our  narrow  escape  when  that  crash 
and  dread  silence  came.  No  doubt  horses  and  buck- 
board  were  precipitated  over  one  of  the  cliffs  and  had 
all  gone  to  "eternal  smash."  My  conscience  made 
me  feel  especially  culpable,  for  had  I  not  detained  the 
Major  we  should  have  left  the  mesa  long  before  it  was 
so  dark.  I  had  caused  the  disaster!  It  was  nothing 
that  I  had  been  "  spilt  out,"  that  doubtless  my  cameras 
were  smashed,  and  the  plates  I  had  exposed  with  so 
much  care  and  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  the  Hopis 
were  in  tiny  pieces  —  for  I  had  clearly  heard  that 
peculiar  "  smash "  that  spoke  of  broken  glass  as  I 
myself  landed  on  the  top  of  my  head.  Think  of  that 
span  of  fine  horses,  and  the  Major's  new  buckboard ! 
The  thought  about  completed  the  work  of  mental  and 
physical  paralysis  the  shock  of  falling  had  begun.  I 
was  suddenly  awakened,  not  by  the  Major's  voice,  for 
neither  of  us  had  yet  spoken  a  word,  —  and  indeed,  I 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     63 

did  n't  know  but  that  he  was  dead,  —  but  by  the  scratch- 
ing of  a  match.  Then  he  was  alive  !  That  was  cause  for  , 
thankfulness.  Setting  fire  to  a  dried  cactus,  the  Major, 
after  thoroughly  picking  himself  up  and  shaking  him- 
self together,  proceeded  to  gather  up  the  photographic 
debris.  Silently  I  aided  him.  Still  silently  we  piled  it 
all  together,  as  much  under  the  shelter  of  the  rocks  as 
possible,  and  then,  still  without  a  word,  we  climbed 
back  upon  the  road  and  started  to  walk  to  the  house  of 
Mr.  Voth,  the  missionary,  where  we  were  stopping. 
For  half  a  mile  or  more  we  trudged  on  wearily  through 
the  deep  and  yielding  sand.  Still  never  a  word.  We 
both  breathed  heavily,  for  the  sand  was  dreadfully  soft 
I  was  wondering  what  I  could  say.  My  conscience  so 
overpowered  me  that  I  dared  not  speak.  I  was  humbling 
myself,  inwardly,  into  the  very  dust  for  having  been 
the  unconscious  and  innocent,  yet  nevertheless  actual 
cause  of  this  disaster.  I  simply  could  n't  break  the 
silence.  To  offer  to  pay  for  the  horses  and  buckboard 
was  easy  (though  that  would  be  a  serious  matter  to  my 
slender  purse)  compared  with  appeasing  the  sturdy 
Major  for  the  shock  to  his  mental  and  physical  system. 
Then,  too,  how  he  must  feel !  At  the  very  thought  the 
cold  sweat  started  on  my  brow  and  I  could  feel  it  trick- 
ling down  my  chest  and  back. 

Suddenly  the  Major  stopped,  and  in  the  darkness  I 
could  dimly  see  him  take  out  his  large  white  handker- 
chief, mop  his  brow  and  head,  and  then,  with  explosive 
force,  but  in  a  voice  charged  with  deepest  and  sincerest 
feeling  he  broke  the  painful  silence :  "  Thank  God,  the 
sun  is  n't  shining." 

Brave-hearted,  generous  Major  Williams!  Not  a 
word  of  reproach,  no  suggestion  of  blame.  What  a  re- 


64        THE   INDIANS   OF  THE 

lief  to  my  burdened  soul.  I  was  almost  hysterical  in 
my  ready  response.  Yes,  we  could  be  thankful  that 
our  lives  and  limbs  were  spared.  We  were  both  unhurt. 
New  horses  and  buckboard  could  be  purchased,  but 
life  and  health  preserved  called  for  thankfulness  to  the 
Divine  Protector. 

Thus  we  congratulated  ourselves  as  we  slowly  plodded 
along  through  the  sand.  Arrived  at  Mr.  Voth's,  we 
soon  retired,  —  he  in  the  bedroom  prepared  for  him  by 
kindly  Mrs.  Voth,  I  in  my  blankets  outside.  The  calm 
face  of  the  sky  soon  soothed  my  disquieted  feelings  and 
nerves,  and  in  a  short  time  I  fell  asleep.  Not  a  thought 
disturbed  me  until  just  as  the  faintest  peepings  of  dawn 
began  to  show  on  the  eastern  ridges,  when,  awakening, 
I  heard  a  noise  as  of  a  horse  shaking  his  harness  close 
by.  Like  a  flash-  I  jumped  up,  and,  in  my  night-robe 
though  I  was,  rushed  to  the  entrance  to  the  corral. 
There,  unharmed  and  uninjured,  with  harness  upon 
them  complete,  the  lines  dangling  down  behind,  the 
neck  yoke  holding  them  together,  as  if  they  were  just 
brought  from  the  stable  ready  to  be  hitched  to  the 
wagon,  were  the  two  horses  which  I  had  vividly  pictured 
to  myself  as  dashed  to  pieces  upon  the  cruel  rocks  at 
the  foot  of  one  of  the  mesa  precipices. 

I  could  scarcely  refrain  from  shouting  my  joy. 
Hastily  I  dressed,  and  while  dressing  thought :  "  The 
horses  are  here ;  I  '11  go  and  hunt  for  the  wagon."  So 
noiselessly  I  hitched  them  to  Mr.  Voth's  buckboard  and 
drove  off.  When  I  came  to  the  scene  of  the  disaster,  I 
found  I  could  drive  upon  the  rocky  terrace.  There 
was  no  difficulty  in  following  the  course  of  the  runa- 
ways. Here  was  part  of  the  seat,  farther  on  some  of 
the  ironwork,  and  still  farther  the  dashboard.  At  last  I 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     65 

reached  the  overturned  and  dismantled  vehicle.  It  was 
in  a  sorry  state.  Two  of  the  wheels  were  completely 
dished,  the  seat  and  dashboard  were  "  scraped  "  off,  one 
whiffletree  was  broken,  and  the  whole  thing  looked  as 
if  it  had  been  rudely  treated  in  a  tornado.  I  turned 
it  over,  tied  the  wheels  so  that  they  would  hold,  and 
then,  fastening  it  behind  Mr.  Voth's  buckboard,  slowly 
drove  back  to  the  house. 

When  this  Major  awoke  he  was  as  much  surprised  and 
pleased  as  I  was  to  find  the  horses  safe  and  sound  and 
the  buckboard  in  a  repairable  condition.  With  a  little 
manoeuvring  we  got  the  vehicle  as  far  as  Ream's 
Canyon,  where  old  Jack  Tobin,  the  blacksmith,  fixed  it 
up  so  that  it  could  be  driven  back  to  Fort  Defiance, 
and  thither,  with  care  and  caution,  the  Major  drove 
me.  A  few  weeks  later,  under  the  healing  powers  of 
the  agency  blacksmith,  the  buckboard  renewed  its 
youth,  —  new  wheels,  new  seat,  new  dashboard,  and  an 
all  covering  new  coat  of  paint  wiped  out  the  memories 
of  our  trip  down  from  the  Oraibi  mesa,  except  those  we 
carried  in  the  depths  of  our  own  consciousness. 


66         THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 


CHAPTER  V 
A  FEW  HOPI   CUSTOMS 

TO  know  any  people  thoroughly  requires  many 
years  of  studied  observation.  The  work  of  such 
men  as  A.  M.  Stephen,  Dr.  Fewkes,  Rev.  H.  R.  Voth, 
and  Dr.  George  A.  Dorsey  reveals  the  vast  field  the 
Hopis  offer  to  students.  To  the  published  results  of 
these  indefatigable  workers  the  student  is  referred  for 
fuller  knowledge.  There  are  certain  things  of  interest, 
however,  that  the  casual  observer  cannot  fail  to  note. 

The  costume  of  the  men  is  undoubtedly  a  modifica- 
tion of  the  dress  of  the  white  man.  Trousers  are  worn, 
generally  of  white  muslin,  and  from  the  knee  down  on 
the  outer  side  they  are  split  open  at  the  seam.  Soleless 
stockings,  home-spun,  dyed  and  knit,  are  worn,  fastened 
with  garters,  similar  in  style  and  design,  though  smaller, 
to  the  sashes  worn  by  the  women.  The  feet  are  covered 
with  rawhide  moccasins.  The  shirt  is  generally  of 
colored  calico,  though  on  special  occasions  the  "  dudes  " 
of  the  people  appear  in  black  or  violet  velvet  shirts  or 
tunics,  which  certainly  give  them  a  handsome  appear- 
ance. The  never-failing  banda,  wound  around  the  fore- 
head, completes  the  costume,  though  accessories  in  the 
shape  of  silver  and  wampum  necklaces,  finger  rings,  etc., 
are  often  worn. 

The  costume  of  the  women  is  both  picturesque  and 
adapted  to  their  life  and  customs.  It  is  neat,  appropri- 
ate, and  modest.  The  effort  our  government  feels  called 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     67 

upon  to  make  to  lead  them  to  change  it  for  calico 
"  wrappers,"  in  accordance  with  a  principle  adopted 
which  regards  as  "  bad  "  and  "  a  hindrance  to  civiliza- 
tion "  anything  native,  is  to  my  mind  vicious  and  sense- 
less. The  Indians  are  not  to  be  civilized  by  making 
them  wear  white  people's  costumes,  nor  by  any  such 
nonsense.  There  are  those  who  condemn  their  basket 
weaving,  because,  forsooth,  it  is  not  a  Christian  art. 
True  civilizing  processes  come  from  within,  and  desire 
for  change  must  precede  the  outward  manifestation  if 
permanent  results  are  desired. 

To  return  to  the  costume.  It  consists  mainly  of  a 
home-woven  robe,  dyed  in  indigo.  When  made,  it 
looks  more  like  an  Indian  blanket  than  a  dress,  but 
when  the  woman  throws  it  over  her  right  shoulder,  sews 
the  two  sides  together,  leaving  an  opening  for  the  right 
arm,  and  then  wraps  one  of  the  highly  colored  and 
finely  woven  sashes  around  her  waist,  the  beholder  sees 
a  dress  at  once  healthful  and  picturesque.  As  a  rule, 
it  comes  down  a  little  below  the  knee,  and  the  left 
shoulder  is  uncovered.  Of  late  years  many  of  the 
women  and  girls  have  learned  to  wear  a  calico  slip 
under  the  picturesque  native  dress,  so  that  both  arms 
and  shoulders  are  covered. 

Most  of  the  time  the  legs  and  feet  are  naked,  but 
when  a  woman  wishes  to  be  fully  attired,  she  wraps 
buckskins,  cut  obliquely  in  half,  around  her  legs,  adroitly 
fastening  the  wrappings  just  above  the  knee  with  thongs 
cut  from  buckskin,  and  then  encases  her  feet  in  shapely 
moccasins.  There  is  no  compression  of  her  solid  feet, 
no  distortion  with  senseless  high  heels.  She  is  too  self- 
poised,  mentally,  to  care  anything  about  Parisian  fashions. 
Health,  neatness,  comfort,  are  the  desiderata  sought  and 


68         THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

obtained  in  her  dress.  The  question  is  sometimes  asked, 
however,  if  the  heavy  leg  swathings  of  buckskin  are  not 
a  mere  fashion  of  Hopi  dress.  Undoubtedly  there  is  a 
following  of  custom  here  as  well  as  elsewhere,  and,  as  I 
have  before  remarked,  one  of  the  keys  to  the  Hopi  char- 
acter is  his  conservatism.  But  the  buckskin  leggings 
have  a  decided  reason  for  their  existence.  In  a  desert 
country  where^  cacti,  cholla,  many  varieties  of  prickly 
shrubs,  sharp  rocks,  and  dangerous  reptiles  abound,  it  is 
necessary  that  the  women  whose  work  calls  them  into 
these  dangers  should  so  dress  as  to  be  prepared  to  over- 
come them.  Many  a  man  wearing  the  ordinary  trousers 
of  civilization  and  finding  himself  off  the  beaten  paths  of 
these  desert  regions  has  longed  for  just  such  protection 
as  the  Hopi  women  give  themselves.  The  cow-boys  who 
ride  pell-mell  through  the  brush  wear  leather  trousers, 
and  their  stirrups  are  covered  with  tough  and  thick 
leather  to  protect  their  shoes  from  being  pierced  by  the 
searching  needles  of  the  cactus,  cholla,  and  buck-brush. 

The  adornments  that  a  Hopi  maiden  of  fashion  affects 
are  silver  rings  and  bracelets  made  by  native  silversmiths, 
and  necklaces  of  coral,  glass,  amber,  or  more  generally 
of  the  shell  wampum  found  all  over  the  continent.  The 
finer  necklets  of  wampum  are  highly  prized,  and  when 
very  old  and  ornamented  with  pieces  of  turquoise,  can 
not  be  purchased  for  large  sums.  Occasionally  ear 
pendants  are  worn.  These  are  made  of  wood,  half  an 
inch  broad  and  an  inch  long,  inlaid  on  one  side  with 
pieces  of  bright  shell,  turquoise,  etc. 

When  a  girl  reaches  the  marriageable  age,  she  is 
required  by  the  customs  of  her  people  to  fix  up  her  hair 
in  two  large  whorls,  one  on  each  side  of  her  head. 
This  gives  her  a  most  striking  appearance.  The  whorl 


1 1  *• 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     69 

represents  the  squash  blossom,  which  is  the  Hopi  em- 
blem of  purity  and  maidenhood.  Girls  mature  very 
early,  the  young  maidens  herewith  represented  being  not 
more  than  from  twelve  to  fifteen  years  of  age. 

When  a  woman  marries  she  must  no  longer  wear  the 
nash-mi  (whorls).  A  new  symbolism  must  be  intro- 
duced. The  hair  is  done  up  in  two  pendant  rolls,  in 
imitation  of  the  ripened  fruit  of  the  long  squash,  which 
is  the  Hopi  emblem  of  fruitfulness. 

In  my  book  on  "  Indian  Basketry  "  I  have  described 
in  detail  the  basketry  of  the  Hopis.  There  are  two  dis- 
tinct varieties  made  at  the  four  villages  of  the  middle 
and  western  mesas.  Those  made  on  the  middle  mesa 
are  of  yucca  fibre  (mo-hu)  coiled  around  a  core  of  grass 
or  broom-corn  (sii-ii).  Those  of  Oraibi  are  of  willow 
and  approximate  as  nearly  to  the  crude  willow  work  of 
civilization  as  any  basketry  made  by  the  aborigines.  In 
both  cases  the  splints  are  dyed,  commonly  nowadays 
with  the  startling  aniline  dyes,  and  with  marvellous 
fertility  of  invention  the  weavers  make  a  thousand  and 
one  geometrical  designs,  in  imitation  of  natural  objects, 
katchinas,  etc.  These  are  mainly  plaques,  but  the  yucca 
fibre  weavers  make  a  treasure  or  trinket  basket,  some- 
what barrel-shaped,  oftentimes  with  a  lid,  that  is  both 
pretty  and  useful.  The  name  for  all  the  yucca  variety 
is  pii-ii-ta.  The  Oraibi  willow  plaques  are  called  yung- 
ya-pa,  while  a  bowl-shaped  basket  is  sa-kah-ta,  and  the 
bowls  made  of  coiled  willow  splints  bought  from  the 
Havasupai  are  sii-kii-wii-ta. 

The  Hopi  weavers  when  at  work  invariably  keep  a 
blanket  full  of  moist  sand  near  them  in  which  the  splints 
are  buried.  This  keeps  them  flexible,  and  the  moist 
sand  is  better  than  water. 


7o         THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

A  reddish-brown  native  dye  is  made  from  Ohaishi 
(Thelesperma  gracile)>  with  which  the  splints  are  colored. 

Unfortunately,  the  introduction  of  aniline  dyes  has 
almost  killed  the  industry  of  making  native  dyes,  but 
there  are  some  few  conservatives  —  God  bless  them !  — 
who  adhere  to  the  ancient  colors  and  methods  of  pre- 
paring them. 

It  cannot  be  said  that  the  Hopis  are  devoid  of  musi- 
cal taste,  for  in  the  early  morning  especially,  as  the 
youths  and  men  take  their  ponies  or  flocks  of  goats  and 
sheep  out  to  pasture,  they  sing  with  sweet  and  far- 
reaching  voices  many  picturesque  melodies. 

Of  the  weird  singing  at  their  religious  ceremonials  I 
have  spoken  in  the  chapter  devoted  to  that  purpose. 

To  most  civilized  ears  Hopi  instrumental  music,  how- 
ever, is  as  much  a  racket  and  din  as  is  Chinese  music. 
The  lelentu,  or  flute,  however,  produces  weird,  soft, 
melancholy  music.  Their  rattles  are  of  three  kinds,  the 
gourd  rattle  (ai-i-ya),  the  rattle  used  by  the  Ante- 
lope priests,  and  the  leg  rattle  of  turtle  shell  and  sheep's 
trotters  (yong-ush-o-na).  The  drum  and  hand  tombe 
are  crude  affairs,  the  former  made  by  hollowing  out  a 
tree  trunk  and  stretching  over  each  end  wet  rawhide,  the 
lashings  also  being  of  strips  of  wet  rawhide  (with  the 
hair  on),  which,  when  dry,  tightens  so  as  to  give 
the  required  resonance.  The  hand  tombe  is  as  near 
like  a  home-made  tambourine  as  can  be.  It  has  no 
jingles,  however.  Another  instrument  is  the  strangest 
conception  imaginable.  It  consists  of  a  large  gourd 
shell,  from  the  top  of  which  a  square  hole  has  been  cut. 
Across  this  is  placed  a  notched  stick,  one  end  of  which 
is  held  in  the  performer's  left  hand.  In  the  other  hand 
is  a  sheep's  thigh-bone,  which  is  worked  back  and  forth 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     71 

over  the  notched  stick,  and  the  resultant  noise  is  the 
desired  music.  This  instrument  is  the  zhe-gun'-pi. 

They  do  not  seem  to  have  many  games,  so  many 
of  their  religious  ceremonials  affording  them  the  diver- 
sion other  peoples  seek  in  athletic  sports.  Their 
racing  is  purely  religious,  as  I  have  elsewhere  shown, 
and  they  get  much  fun  out  of  some  of  their  semi- 
religious  exercises. 

A  game  that  they  are  very  fond  of,  and  that  requires 
considerable  skill  to  play,  is  we-la.  The  game  consists 
in  several  players,  each  armed  with  a  feathered  dart,  or 
ma-te'-va,  rushing  after  a  small  hoop  made  of  corn 
husks  or  broom-corn  well  bound  together  —  the  we-la, 
and  throwing  their  darts  so  that  they  stick  into  it 
The  hoop  is  about  a  foot  in  diameter  and  two  inches 
thick,  the  ma-te'-va  nearly  a  foot  long.  Each  player's 
dart  has  a  different  color  of  feathers,  so  that  each  can 
tell  when  he  scores.  To  see  a  dozen  swarthy  and 
almost  nude  youths  darting  along  in  the  dance  plaza, 
or  streets,  or  down  in  the  valley  on  the  sand,  laughing, 
shouting,  gesticulating,  every  now  and  then  stopping 
for  a  moment,  jabbering  over  the  score,  then  eagerly 
following  the  motion  of  the  thrower  of  the  we^la  so  as 
to  be  ready  to  strike  the  ma-te'-va  into  it,  and  then, 
suddenly  letting  them  fly,  is  a  picturesque  and  lively 
sight. 

The  Hopi  is  quite  a  traveller.  Though  fond  of  home, 
I  have  met  members  of  the  tribe  in  varied  quarters  of 
the  Painted  Desert  Region.  They  get  a  birch  bark 
from  the  Verdi  Valley  with  which  they  make  the  dye 
for  their  moccasins.  A  yellowish  brown  color,  called 
pavissa,  is  obtained  from  a  point  near  the  junction  of 
the  Little  Colorado  and  Marble  Canyon.  Here  they 


72         THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

obtain  salt,  and  at  the  bottom  of  the  salt  springs,  where 
the  waters  bubble  up  in  pools,  this  pavissa  settles. 
Bahos,  or  prayer  sticks,  are  always  deposited  at  the 
time  of  obtaining  this  ochre,  as  it  is  to  be  used  in  the 
painting  of  the  face  of  the  bahos  used  in  most  sacred 
ceremonies.  The  so-called  Moki  trail  is  evidence  of  the 
long  association  between  the  Hopis  and  the  Havasupais 
in  Havasu  (Cataract)  Canyon,  and  I  have  often  met 
them  there  trading  blankets,  horses,  etc.,  for  buckskin 
and  the  finely  woven  wicker  bowl-baskets  —  kii-iis  — 
of  the  Havasupais,  which  are  much  prized  by  the  Hopis. 

Occasionally  he  reaches  as  far  northeast  as  Lee's 
Ferry  and  even  crosses  into  southern  Utah,  and  at  Zuni 
to  the  southeast  he  is  ever  a  welcome  visitor.  The 
Apaches  in  the  White  Mountains  tell  that  on  occasions 
the  Hopis  will  visit  them,  and  when  visiting  the  Yumas  in 
1902  they  informed  me  that  long  ago  the  Snake  Danc- 
ing Mokis  were  their  friends,  and  sometimes  came  to 
see  them. 

Dr.  Walter  Hough  has  written  a  most  interesting 
paper  on  "  Environmental  Interrelations  in  Arizona," 
in  which  are  many  items  about  the  Hopis.  He  says 
they  brought  from  their  priscan  home  corn,  beans, 
melons,  squash,  cotton,  and  some  garden  plants,  and 
that  they  have  since  acquired  peaches,  apricots,  and 
wheat,  and  among  other  plants  which  they  infrequently 
cultivate  may  be  named  onions,  chili,  sunflowers, 
sorghum,  tomatoes,  potatoes,  grapes,  pumpkins,  garlic, 
coxcomb,  coriander,  saffron,  tobacco,  and  nectarines. 
They  are  great  beggars  for  seeds  and  will  try  any  kind 
that  may  be  given  to  them. 

Owing  to  their  dependence  upon  wild  grasses  for 
food  when  their  corn  crops  used  to  fail,  —  that  is,  in  the 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     73 

days  before  a  paternal  government  helped  them  out 
at  such  times,  —  every  Hopi  child  was  a  trained  botanist 
from  his  earliest  years;  not  trained  from  our  stand- 
point, but  from  theirs.  We  should  say  much  of  his 
knowledge  was  unscientific,  and  it  goes  far  beyond  the 
use  of  grasses  and  plants  as  food.  Dr.  Hough  in  his 
paper  gives  a  number  of  examples  of  the  uses  to  which 
the  various  seeds,  etc.,  are  put.  The  botanist  as  well 
as  the  ethnologist  will  find  this  a  most  comprehensive 
and  useful  list.  For  food  forty-seven  seeds,  berries, 
stems,  leaves,  or  roots  are  eaten.  The  seeds  of  a 
species  of  sporobolus  are  ground  with  corn  to  make 
a  kind  of  cake,  which  the  Hopis  greatly  enjoy.  The 
leaves  of  a  number  are  cooked  and  eaten  as  greens. 

A  large  amount  of  folk-lore  connected  with  plants  has 
been  collected  by  Drs.  Fewkes  and  Hough.  From  the 
latter's  extensive  list  I  quote.  For  headache  the  leaves 
of  the  Astragalus  mollissimus  are  bruised  and  rubbed 
on  the  temples ;  tea  is  made  from  the  root  of  the  Gaura 
parviflora  for  snake  bite ;  women  boil  the  Townsendia 
arizonica  into  a  tea  and  drink  it  to  induce  pregnancy ; 
a  plant  called  by  the  Hopi  wiitakpala  is  rubbed  on  the 
breast  or  legs  for  pain ;  Verbesina  enceloides  is  used  on 
boils  or  for  skin  diseases ;  Croton  texlusis  is  taken  as 
an  emetic ;  Allionia  line  arts  is  boiled  to  make  an  in- 
fusion for  wounds;  the  mistletoe  that  grows  on  the 
juniper  (Phoradendron  juniperinuni)  makes  a  beverage 
which  both  Hopi  and  Navaho  say  is  like  coffee,  and  a 
species  that  grows  on  the  cottonwood,  called  lo  rnapi, 
is  used  as  medicine ;  the  leaves  of  Gilia  longiflora  are 
boiled  and  drank  for  stomach  ache ;  the  leaves  of  the 
Gilia  multiflora  (which  is  collected  forty  miles  south 
of  Walpi  at  an  elevation  of  six  thousand  feet),  when 


74         THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

bruised  and  rubbed  on  ant  bites  is  said  to  be  a  specific ; 
Oreocarya  suffruticosa  is  pounded  up  and  used  for  pains 
in  the  body ;  Carduus  rothrockii  is  boiled  and  drank  as 
tea  for  colds  which  give  rise  to  a  prickling  sensation 
in  the  throat;  the  leaves  of  Coleosanthus  wrightii  are 
bruised  and  rubbed  on  the  temples  for  headache,  as 
also  is  the  Artemisia  canadensis;  and  so  on  throughout 
a  list  as  long  again  as  this. 

In  connection  with  this  list  Dr.  Hough  calls  attention 
to  the  workings  of  the  Hopi  mind  in  a  manner  which 
justifies  an  extensive  quotation :  — 

L. 

"  The  word  '  medicine '  as  applied  by  the  Hopi  and  other 
tribes  is  very  comprehensive,  including  charms  to  influence  gods, 
men,  and  animals,  or  to  cure  a  stomach  ache.  As  stated,  from 
experiments  with  the  plants  some  have  been  discovered  which 
are  uniform  in  action  and  which  would  have  place  in  a  standard 
pharmacopoeia.  Thus  there  are  heating  plasters,  powders  for 
dressing  wounds,  emetics,  diuretics,  purges,  sudorific  infusions, 
etc.  Other  plants  are  of  doubtful  value,  and  in  their  use  other 
animistic  ideas  may  enter,  though  some  of  them,  such  as  those 
infused  for  colds,  headache,  rheumatism,  fever,  etc.,  may  have 
therapeutic  properties.  The  obligation  of  the  civilized  to  the 
uncivilized  for  healing  plants  is  very  great  Another  class  is 
clearly  out  of  the  domain  of  empirical  medicine.  Tea  made 
from  the  thistle  is  a  remedy  for  prickling  pains  in  the  larynx, 
milkweed  will  induce  a  flow  of  milk,  and  there  are  other  ex- 
amples of  inferential  medicine.  Perhaps  another  class  is  shown 
by  the  employment  of  the  plant  named  for  the  bat,  in  order  to 
induce  sleep  in  the  daytime. 

"  It  may  be  interesting  to  look  into  the  workings  of  the 
Indian  mind  as  shown  by  his  explanation  of  the  uses  of  certain 
of  these  plants. 

"A  beautiful  scarlet  gilia  (Gilia  aggrcgatatyrtng)  grows  on 
the  talus  of  the  giant  mesa  on  which  ancient  Awatobi  stood. 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     75 

This  is  the  only  locality  where  the  plant  has  been  collected  in 
this  region,  but  it  grows  in  profusion  on  the  White  Mountains, 
one  hundred  and  twenty-five  miles  southeast 

"  The  herdsman  of  our  party  was  asked  the  name  and  use 
of  the  plant.  He  replied:  *  It  is  the  pala  katchi,  or  red  male 
flower,  and  it  is  very  good  for  catching  antelope.  Before  going 
out  to  kill  antelope,  hunters  rub  up  the  flowers  and  leaves  of 
the  plant  and  mix  them  with  the  meal  which  they  offer  during 
their  prayer  to  the  gods  of  the  chase.' 

"  *  Why  is  that? '  was  asked. 

" f  Because,'  he  replied,  <  the  antelope  is  very  fond  of  this 
plant  and  eats  it  greedily  when  he  can  find  it.1  (Animistic 
idea.) 

"  Another  creeping  plant  (Solatium  triflorum  Nutt.),  which 
bears  numerous  green  fruit  about  the  size  of  a  cherry,  filled 
with  small  seeds,  is  called  cavayo  ngahu,  or  watermelon  medi- 
cine. The  plant  may  be  likened  to  a  miniature  watermelon 
vine.  It  was  explained  that  if  one  took  the  fruit  and  planted 
it  in  the  same  hill  with  the  watermelon  seeds,  would  there 
be  many  watermelons, — that  is,  the  watermelon  would  be 
influenced  to  become  as  prolific  as  the  small  plant. 

"Every  one  is  familiar  with  the  clematis  bearing  fluffy 
bunches  of  seeds  having  long,  hair-like  appendages.  An 
Indian  lecturing  on  a  collected  specimen  of  the  clematis  said : 
'  This  is  very  good  to  make  the  hair  grow.  You  make  a  tea 
of  it  and  rub  it  on  the  head,  and  pretty  quick  your  hair  will 
hang  down  to  your  hips/  indicating  by  a  gesture  the  extraor- 
dinary length.  For  the  same  reason  the  fallugia  is  a  good 
hair  tonic." 

The  Hopi  uses  a  weapon  for  catching  rabbits  which, 
for  want  of  a  better  name,  white  men  call  a  boomerang. 
It  possesses  none  of  the  strange  properties  of  the  Aus- 
tralian weapon,  yet  in  the  hands  of  a  skilled  Hopi  it  is 
wonderfully  effective.  I  have  seen  fifty  Oraibis  on  horse- 
back, and  numbers  of  men  and  boys  on  foot,  each  armed 


76         THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

with  one  of  these  weapons,  on  their  rabbit  drive.  They 
determine  on  a  certain  area  and  then  beat  it  thoroughly 
for  rabbits,  and  woe  be  to  the  unhappy  cottontail  or  even 
lightning-legged  jack-rabbit  if  a  Hopi  throws  his  boom- 
erang. Like  the  wind  it  speeds  true  to  its  aim  and 
seldom  fails  to  kill  or  seriously  wound. 

Though  most  of  the  men  have  guns  and  many  of  the 
youths  revolvers,  the  bow  and  arrow  as  a  weapon  is  not 
entirely  discarded.  All  the  young  boys,  even  little  tots 
that  can  scarcely  walk,  use  the  bow  and  arrow  with 
dexterity.  A  small  hard  melon  or  pumpkin  is  thrown 
into  the  air  and  a  child  will  sometimes  put  two  or  even 
three  arrows  into  it  before  it  reaches  the  ground.  Old 
men  who  are  too  poor  to  own  modern  weapons  are  often 
seen  sitting  like  the  proverbial  and  oft-pictured  fox, 
stealthily  watching  for  a  ground  squirrel,  prairie-dog, 
or  rat  to  come  out  of  his  hole,  when  the  speedy  and 
certain  arrow  is  let  fly  to  his  undoing. 

Except  for  a  little  wild  meat  of  this  kind,  secured 
seldom,  or  a  sheep,  which  is  too  valuable  for  its  wool  to 
kill  on  any  except  very  special  and  rare  occasions,  the 
Hopis  are  practically  vegetarians.  They  are  not  above 
taking  what  the  gods  send  them,  however,  in  the  shape 
of  a  dead  horse.  A  few  years  ago  Mr.  D.  M.  Riordan, 
formerly  of  Flagstaff,  conducted  a  party  of  friends  over  a 
large  section  of  the  region  presented  in  these  pages,  and 
when  near  Oraibi  a  beautiful  mare  of  one  of  the  teams 
suddenly  bloated  and  speedily  died.  In  less  than  an 
hour  after  they  were  told  they  might  take  the  flesh ;  the 
Hopis  had  skinned  it,  cut  up  the  carcass,  and  removed 
every  shred  of  it.  I  afterwards  saw  the  flesh  cut  into 
strips,  hung  outside  the  houses  of  the  fortunate  pos- 
sessors to  dry,  and  I  doubt  not  that  horse  meat  made 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     77 

many  a  happy  meal  for  them  during  the  months  that 
followed. 

When  a  Hopi  feels  rich  he  may  buy  a  sheep  or  a  goat 
from  a  Navaho,  or  even  kill  a  burro  in  order  to  vary 
his  dietary. 

Corn  is  his  staple  food.  It  is  cooked  in  a  variety  of 
ways,  but  the  three  principal  methods  are  piki,  pikami, 
and  pu-vu-lu.  Piki  is  a  thin,  wafer-like  bread,  cooked 
as  I  have  before  described. 

On  one  occasion,  at  Oraibi,  an  old  friend,  Na-wi-so-ma, 
was  making  piki  for  the  Snake  Dancers.  When  I  took 
my  friends  to  see  her,  they  all  ate  of  the  bread  and  asked 
her  all  manner  of  questions  about  it. 

Na-wi-so-ma  was  very  kind  and  obliging.  One  of  my 
party  wished  to  make  moving  photographs  of  the  opera- 
tion of  making  piki,  so  she  cheerfully  moved  her  too-ma 
(cooking  stone)  outside.  She  insisted  upon  placing  it, 
however,  so  that  her  back  was  to  the  blazing  sun,  which 
rendered  it  impossible  to  make  the  photographs.  It 
was  in  vain  that  I  explained  to  her  why  she  must  face 
the  sun,  and,  at  last,  in  desperation,  I  seized  the  heavy 
too-ma  and  carried  it  where  I  desired  it  to  be.  In  my 
haste  in  putting  it  down  —  rather,  dropping  it  —  it 
snapped  in  two,  and  I  had  to  repair  the  damage  to  her 
stone  and  feelings  with  a  piece  of  silver  ere  we  could 
proceed. 

Pikami  is  made  as  follows :  A  certain  amount  of  corn- 
meal  is  mixed  with  a  small  amount  of  sugar,  and  color- 
ing matter  made  from  squash  flowers.  This  mixture  is 
then  placed  in  an  earthenware  vessel,  or  olla,  and  a 
cover  tightly  sealed  on  the  vessel  with  mud.  It  is  now 
ready  to  go  into  the  oven.  The  pikami  oven  is  generally 
out  of  doors.  Sometimes  it  is  a  mere  hole  in  the 


78         THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

ground,  without  a  covering,  but  the  better  style  is  where 
the  hole  is  located  in  the  angle  of  two  walls  and  partially 
covered.  A  broken  olla  is  made  to  serve  as  a  chimney. 
To  prepare  the  oven,  sticks  of  wood  are  placed  inside  it 
and  set  on  fire.  When  these  are  reduced  to  flaming 
coals  and  the  oven  is  red  hot,  the  coals  are  withdrawn, 
and  the  olla  containing  the  corn-meal  mixture  is  lowered 
into  the  hole.  This  is  then  covered  with  a  stone  slab, 
sealed  with  mud,  and  allowed  to  remain  closed  for 
several  hours.  When  the  oven  is  unsealed  and  the  olla 
withdrawn,  the  corn-meal  is  thoroughly  cooked  —  now 
pikami  —  and  the  dish  is  both  nutritious  and  delicious. 

Pu-vii-lu  is  a  corn-meal  preparation  that  corresponds 
somewhat  to  the  New  England  doughnut.  On  one 
occasion,  just  before  the  Snake  Dance  at  Mashonganavi, 
I  found  Ma-sa-wi-ni-ma,  Kuchyeampsi's  mother,  busy 
preparing  the  dish.  When  I  induced  her  to  come  into 
the  sunshine  to  be  photographed,  stirring  the  meal,  just 
eight  other  kodak  and  camera  fiends  insisted  upon 
"  shooting  "  her  at  the  same  time.  She  was  very  com- 
placent about  it,  especially  when  I  collected  ten  cents  a 
head  for  her,  and  handed  her  ninety  cents  for  her  five 
minutes'  pose. 

Her  method  was  as  follows :  Into  a  cha-ka-ta  (bowl) 
she  placed  corn-meal  and  a  little  coloring  matter.  Then 
adding  sugar  and  water,  she  stirred  it  with  a  stick,  as 
shown  in  the  photograph.  It  was  made  to  a  thick 
dough.  In  the  meantime  a  pan  of  water,  into  which 
mutton  fat  had  been  placed,  was  on  the  fire,  and  when  it 
was  hot  enough  small  balls  of  the  corn-meal  dough  were 
dropped  into  the  water  and  fat  and  allowed  to  remain 
until  cooked.  The  result  is  a  not  unpleasant  food, 
of  which  the  Hopis  are  very  fond. 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     79 

One  of  the  common  dishes,  when  a  sheep  has  been 
killed,  is  the  neii-euck'-que-vi,  a  stew  composed  of  corn, 
mutton,  and  chili. 

So  far  the  Hopis  have  not  been  a  success  as  traders. 
It  is  a  slow  and  long  journey  from  aboriginal  life  to 
civilization.  One  of  the  young  men  who  had  been  to 
school,  a  bright  youth  of  some  twenty-three  years, — 
Kuy-an-im'-ti-wa,  —  was  fired  with  a  desire  to  trade  with 
his  people  on  his  own  account.  Permission  was  given 
him  by  the  agent  to  start  a  store.  A  small  building  was 
speedily  erected  at  the  foot  of  the  Mashonganavi  mesa 
and  a  stock  of  goods  purchased.  For  a  while  things 
went  well.  Then  Kuyanimtiwa  had  to  go  away  on 
business,  and  an  elderly  uncle  (I  think  it  was)  took 
charge  of  the  store  in  his  absence.  When  the  embryo 
trader  returned  he  found  his  shelves  nearly  empty,  and 
a  lot  of  trash  accumulated  under  his  counter,  which  the 
old  man  had  taken  "  in  trade."  The  credits  of  many 
Hopis  had  been  extended  and  enlarged  without  proper 
consulting  of  Bradstreet's  or  Dun's,  and  blank  ruin 
stared  poor  Kuyanimtiwa  in  the  face.  I  purchased 
about  eighty  dollars'  worth  of  baskets  and  "  truck  "  from 
him,  for  which,  however,  I  was  compelled  to  give  him 
my  check.  For  long  weeks,  indeed  months,  the  check 
did  .not  come  in,  until  I  feared  the  poor  fellow  had  lost 
it.  When  I  inquired  I  found  it  was  in  the  hands  of 
the  agent,  being  held  as  security  until  some  disposal 
was  made  of  a  suit  between  the  old  man  and  Kuyan- 
imtiwa. It  ultimately  reached  the  bank,  so  I  assume 
the  trouble  was  ended,  but  it  will  be  some  time,  if  what 
he  said  has  lasting  force,  before  the  young  Hopi  will 
open  store  again  with  an  untrained  assistant. 

In  an  earlier  chapter  I  have  shown  that  the  women 


80         THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 

build  and  own  the  houses.  In  return  the  men  knit  the 
stockings  and  weave  the  women's  dresses  and  sashes. 
With  looms  very  similar  to  those  described  in  the 
chapter  on  "  Navaho  Blanketry,"  they  make  the  dresses 
we  have  seen  the  women  wearing.  In  the  days  before 
the  Spaniards  introduced  sheep  the  Hopis  grew  cotton 
quite  extensively,  dyed  it  with  the  simple  but  beautiful 
and  permanent  dyes,  and  wove  it  into  garments. 
The  blue  of  the  dresses  was  originally  obtained  —  and 
is  yet  by  some  —  from  the  seeds  of  the  sunflower. 

In  several  cases  I  have  found  blind  men  engaged  in 
knitting  stockings.  With  needles  of  wood,  long  and  slen- 
der, their  fingers  busily  moved  as  those  of  the  old  house- 
wives used  to  do  in  my  boyhood's  days.  One  was  an  old 
man,  Tu-ki-i'-ma.  He  was  "  si-bo'-si "  (blind),  and  ex- 
pressed his  thankfulness  for  the  occupation.  Another 
poor  old  man,  stone  blind,  was  winding  yarn  into  a  ball. 
He  was  squatted  upon  the  ground,  with  the  yarn  around 
his  feet  and  knees.  It  was  a  pathetic  sight  to  see  the  old 
and  forlorn  creature  anxious  to  make  himself  useful, 
even  though  blind  and  aged. 

There  are  a  score  of  other  interesting  matters  I  should 
enjoy  referring  to  did  space  permit,  but  these  must  be 
left  for  some  future  time. 

That  they  are  picturesque  and  interesting,  and  in  some 
of  their  ceremonies  fascinating,  there  is  no  question. 
They  are  religious  (in  their  way),  domestic,  honest, 
faithful,  industrious,  and  chaste.  But  there  is  no  denying 
that  many  of  them  are  dirty,  —  really,  indescribably  filthy. 
One  of  my  old  drivers,  Franklin  French,  used  to  say 
with  a  turn  up  of  his  nose :  "  I  'd  rather  associate  with 
a  good  skunk  who  was  up  in  the  skunk  business  than  get 
to  leeward  of  a  Moki  town."  Their  sanitary  accommo- 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     81 

dations  are  nil,  and  their  habits  accord  with  their  ac- 
commodations. Were  it  not  for  the  fierce  rays  of  the 
sun  and  the  strong  winds  that  purify  their  elevated  mesa- 
tops,  the  accumulated  evils  would  soon  render  habitation 
impossible.  Water  being  so  scarce,  they  are  not  habit- 
ually cleanly  in  person,  as  are  some  of  the  other  peoples. 
Hence  the  contempt  with  which  many  of  the  Navahoes 
regard  them. 

Of  course  there  are  exceptions,  where  both  houses 
and  individuals  are  as  neat  and  clean  as  can  be.  Among 
Hopis  as  well  as  among  whites,  it  is  not  possible  to 
generalize  too  widely. 


82         THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  RELIGIOUS   LIFE   OF  THE  HOPI 

THE  Hopi  is  essentially  religious.  As  a  ritualist 
he  has  no  superior  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 
From  the  ceremonial  standpoint  the  Hopi  people  are 
the  most  religious  nation  known.  From  four  to  sixteen 
days  of  every  month  are  employed  by  one  society  or 
another  in  the  performance  of  secret  religious  rites,  or 
in  public  ceremonies,  which,  for  want  of  a  better  name, 
the  whites  call  dances.  So  complex,  indeed,  is  the 
Hopi's  religious  life  that  we  have  no  complete  calendar 
as  yet  of  all  the  ceremonies  that  he  feels  called  upon 
to  observe.  Every  act  of  his  life  from  the  cradle  to  the 
grave  has  a  religious  side.  Fear  and  the  need  for  pro- 
pitiation are  the  motive  powers  of  his  religious  life,  and 
these,  combined  with  his  stanch  conservatism,  render 
him  a  wonderfully  fertile  subject  for  study  as  to  the 
workings  of  the  child  mind  of  the  human  race. 

With  such  a  complex  and  vast  religious  system  this 
chapter  can  attempt  no  more  than  merely  to  outline  or 
suggest  the  thoughts  upon  which  his  religion  is  based, 
and  then,  in  brief,  describe  two  or  three  of  the  most 
important  of  his  religious  ceremonials. 

I  can  do  better  than  attempt  a  difficult  matter,  and 
one  that  requires  years  of  study,  viz.,  to  account  for 
the  religious  concepts  of  the  Indian.  I  can  urge  the 
reader  to  obtain  Major  J.  W.  Powell's  "  Lessons  of 


GROUP  OF  HOPI  MAIDENS  AT  SHUNGOPAVI. 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     83 

Folk-lore,"  which  appeared  in  the  American  Anthropol- 
ogist for  January-March,  1900.  In  it  he  has  written 
a  most  fascinating  account  of  the  thought  movements 
of  the  Amerind ;  and  Dr.  J.  Walter  Fewkes,  in  his 
"  Interpretation  of  Katchina  Worship,"  has  given  a 
clearer  idea  of  Hopi  religious  belief  than  has  ever  before 
been  penned. 

The  Hopis  themselves  are  not  aware  of  the  why  and 
wherefore  of  all  they  do.  For  centuries  they  have  fol- 
lowed "  the  ways  of  the  old,"  until  they  are  ultra  con- 
servatives, especially  in  matters  pertaining  to  religion. 

I  have  already  referred  to  and  described  the  kivas 
or  underground  ceremonial  chambers,  where  many  of 
their  rites  are  performed. 

Six  objects  closely  connected  with  their  worship 
should  be  thoroughly  understood,  as  such  knowledge 
will  simplify  a  thousand  and  one  things  that  will  other- 
wise appear  mysterious  to  one  who  visits  the  Hopis  for 
the  first  time.  These  objects  are  the  baho  (prayer  stick 
or  plume),  the  puhtabi  (road  marker),  the  tiponi,  the 
natchi,  the  shrine,  and  the  katchina. 

The  baho  is  inseparably  connected  with  all  religious 
ceremonies  and  prayers.  Without  it  prayers  would 
be  inefficacious.  Generally,  before  every  ceremony  is 
performed,  a  certain  time  is  given  to  the  making  of 
bahos.  One  form  of  baho  is  made  of  two  sticks,  painted 
green  with  black  points,  one  male  and  the  other  female, 
tied  together  with  a  string  made  of  native  cotton,  and 
cut  to  a  prescribed  length.  A  small  corn  husk,  shaped 
like  a  funnel  and  holding  a  little  prayer  meal  and  honey, 
is  attached  to  the  sticks  at  their  place  of  union.  Tied 
to  this  husk  is  a  short,  four-stranded  cotton  string,  on 
the  end  of  which  are  two  small  feathers.  A  turkey 


84         THE    INDIANS    OF  THE 

wing-feather  and  a  sprig  of  two  certain  herbs  are  tied  so 
as  to  protrude  above  the  butt  ends  of  the  sticks,  and 
the  baho  is  complete. 

Other  bahos  are  made  of  flat  pieces  of  board,  any- 
where from  a  foot  to  three  feet  in  length,  and  two 
inches  or  more  wide,  to  which  feathers  and  herbs  are 
attached.  On  the  face  of  these  figures  of  katchinas, 
animals,  reptiles,  and  natural  objects,  such  as  rain- 
clouds,  descending  rain,  corn,  etc.,  are  painted,  every 
object  having  a  distinct  and  symbolic  meaning.  In  other 
cases  the  bahos  are  carved  into  the  zigzag  shape  of  the 
lightning.  The  Soyal  bahos  are  many  and  various. 
Some  are  long,  thin  sticks,  with  cotton  strings  and  feathers 
attached  near  the  ends ;  others  are  thicker,  with  many 
feathers  tied  to  the  centre;  some  are  bent  or  crook- 
shaped,  while  still  others  are  long  willow  switches  to 
which  eagle,  hawk,  turkey,  flicker,  and  other  feathers 
are  tied.  They  are  made  with  great  care  and  solemnity 
and  prayed  over  and  "  consecrated  "  before  being  used. 
They  are  "  prayer  bearers,"  the  feathers  symbolizing 
the  birds  who  used  to  fly  to  and  from  the  World  of  the 
Powers  with  their  messages  to  mankind  and  the  answers 
thereto. 

The  puhtabi  (or  road  marker)  is  a  long  piece  of 
native  cotton  string,  to  which  a  feather  or  feathers  are 
attached,  and  it  is  placed  on  the  trails  to  mark  the  be- 
ginning of  the  road  (hence  its  name)  to  the  shrines 
which  are  to  be  visited  during  the  ceremonies. 

The  tiponi  is  to  the  Hopi  what  the  cross  is  to  the 
devout  Catholic.  No  altar  is  complete  without  it. 
Altars  are  often  set  up  with  a  substitute  for  a  tiponi, 
but  all  recognize  its  insufficiency.  Tiponis  vary,  that 
of  the  Antelope  Society  being  a  bunch  of  long  feathers 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     85 

(see  the  photograph  in  the  chapter  on  the  "  Snake 
Dance"),  while  that  of  the  Soyal  ceremony  is  of  a 
quartz  crystal  inserted  into  a  cylindrical-shaped  vessel 
of  cottonwood  root. 

In  the  Lelentu  and  Lalakonti  ceremonies  part  of  the 
rites  consist  in  an  unwrapping  of  the  tiponis.  In  both 
of  them  either  kernels  of  corn  or  other  seeds  formed 
essential  parts.  Dr.  Fewkes  says :  "  From  chiefs  of 
other  societies  it  has  been  learned  that  their  tiponis 
likewise  contained  corn,  either  in  grains  or  on  the  ear. 
Although  from  this  information  one  is  not  justified  in 
concluding  that  all  tiponis  contain  corn,  it  is  probably 
true  with  one  or  two  exceptions.  The  tiponi  is  called 
the  "  mother,"  and  an  ear  of  corn  given  to  a  novice  has 
the  same  name.  There  is  nothing  more  precious  to  an 
agricultural  people  than  seed,  and  we  may  well  imagine 
that  during  the  early  Hopi  migrations  the  danger  of 
losing  it  may  have  led  to  every  precaution  for  its  safety. 
Thus  it  may  have  happened  that  it  was  wrapped  in  the 
tiponi  and  given  to  the  chief  to  guard  with  all  care  as 
a  most  precious  heritage.  In  this  manner  it  became 
a  mere  symbol,  and  as  such  it  persists  to-day." 

Whenever  ceremonies  are  about  to  take  place  in  the 
kivas  the  chief  priest  puts  in  place  on  the  ladder-poles 
or  near  the  hatchway  of  each  participating  kiva  a  sign 
of  the  fact,  called  the  natchi.  This  I  have  later  de- 
scribed on  the  Snake  and  Antelope  kivas.  At  the 
Soyal  ceremony  on  the  Kwan  (Agave)  kiva,  the  natchi 
consisted  of  a  bent  stick,  to  which  were  fastened  six 
feathers,  representing  the  Hopi  six  world-quarters.  For 
the  north,  a  yellow  feather  of  the  flycatcher  or  warbler ; 
for  the  west,  a  blue  feather  of  the  bluebird;  for  the 
south,  a  red  feather  of  the  parrot;  for  the  east,  a  black- 


86        THE    INDIANS   OF   THE 

and-white  feather  of  the  magpie;  for  the  northeast 
(above),  a  black  feather  of  the  hepatic  tanager ;  and  for 
the  southwest  (below),  a  feather  from  an  unknown  source 
and  called  toposhkway  representing  different  colors. 

The  natchis  of  two  of  the  kivas  in  the  New  Fire 
ceremony  held  in  Walpi  in  1898  were  sticks,  about  a 
foot  long,  to  the  ends  of  which  bundles  of  hawk  feathers 
were  attached.  At  another  kiva  it  was  an  agave  stalk, 
at  one  end  of  which  were  attached  several  crane  feathers 
and  a  circlet  of  corn  husks.  A  natchi  used  later  by 
another  society  consisted  of  a  cap-shaped  object  of 
basketry,  to  which  were  attached  two  small  whitened 
gourds  in  imitation  of  horns. 

That  the  natchi  is  more  than  a  sign  of  warning  to 
outsiders  to  keep  away  from  the  secret  rites  of  the  kiva 
is  evidenced  by  the  variety  of  materials  used;  and, 
indeed,  the  things  themselves  are  now  known  to  be 
symbols,  to  some  of  which  Mr.  Voth  has  learned  the 
key.  For  instance,  on  the  natchi  of  the  Snake  and 
Antelope  Societies,  the  skins  of  the  piwani  —  which  is 
supposed  to  be  the  weasel  —  are  attached.  The  Hopis 
say  of  the  animal  to  whom  the  skin  belongs  that  when 
chased  into  a  hole,  he  works  his  way  through  the 
ground  so  quickly  that  he  escapes  and  "  gets  out "  at 
some  other  place.  Now  see  the  ceremonial  signifi- 
cance of  the  use  of  this  weasel's  skin  on  the  Snake 
natchi.  They  are  supposed  to  affect  the  clouds  and  com- 
pel them  to  "  come  out,"  so  that  rain  will  come  quickly. 

Near  all  the  villages,  or  on  the  terraces  below,  a 
number  of  shrines  may  be  found  where  certain  of  the 
"  Powers  "  are  worshipped.  In  the  account  of  the  Snake 
Dance  I  speak  of  the  shrine  of  the  Spider  Woman,  and 
show  the  photograph  made  when  I  followed  Tubang- 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     87 

ointiwa  (the  Antelope  chief),  and  watched  him  deposit 
bahos  and  offer  prayers  to  her.  The  number  of  shrines 
is  large.  I  have  seen  many,  but  there  is  not  space 
here  to  describe  them.  It  is  an  interesting  occupation, 
during  the  ceremonies,  to  follow  the  priests,  after  they 
have  deposited  the  puhtabi  and  begun  to  sprinkle  the 
sacred  meal,  to  the  shrines.  If  the  observer  can  then 
have  explained  to  him  the  deity  to  whom  the  shrine  is 
dedicated,  and  his  or  her  place  in  the  Hopi  pantheon, 
his  knowledge  of  Hopi  worship  will  be  considerably 
increased. 

Of  katchinas  much  might  be  written.  They  are 
ancient  ancestral  representatives  of  certain  Hopi  clans 
who,  as  spirits  of  the  dead,  are  endowed  with  powers 
to  aid  the  living  members  of  the  clan  in  material  ways. 
The  clans,  therefore,  pray  to  them  that  these  material 
blessings  may  be  given.  "  It  is  an  almost  universal 
idea  of  primitive  man,"  says  Fewkes,  "  that  prayers 
should  be  addressed  to  personations  of  the  beings 
worshipped.  In  the  carrying  out  of  this  conception 
men  personate  the  katchinas,  wearing  masks  and  dress- 
ing in  the  costumes  characteristic  of  these  beings.  These 
personations  represent  to  the  Hopi  mind  their  idea  of 
the  appearance  of  these  katchinas  or  clan  ancients. 
The  spirit  beings  represented  in  these  personations 
appear  at  certain  times  in  the  pueblo,  dancing  before 
spectators,  receiving  prayer  for  needed  blessings,  as 
rain  and  good  crops." 

The  katchinas  are  supposed  to  come  to  the  earth 
from  the  underworld  in  February  and  remain  until  July, 
when  they  say  farewell.  Hence  there  are  two  specific 
times  which  dramatically  celebrate  the  arrival  and 
departure  of  the  katchinas.  The  former  of  these  times 


88         THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

is  called  by  the  Hopi  Powamti,  and  the  latter  Niman. 
At  these  festivals,  or  merry  dances,  certain  members 
of  the  participating  clans  wear  masks  representing 
the  katchinas,  hence  katchina  masks  are  often  to 
be  found  in  Hopi  houses  when  one  is  privileged  to 
see  the  treasures  stored  away.  In  order  to  instruct 
the  children  in  the  many  katchinas  of  the  Hopi  pan- 
theon, tih&s,  or  dolls,  are  made  in  imitation  of  the 
ancestral  supernal  beings,  and  these  quaint  and  curious 
toys  are  eagerly  sought  after  by  those  interested  in 
Indian  life  and  thought.  Dr.  Fewkes  has  in  his  private 
collection  over  two  hundred  and  fifty  different  katchina 
tihus,  and  in  the  Field  Columbian  Museum  there  is  an 
even  larger  collection. 

Of  the  altars,  screens,  fetishes,  cloud-blowers,  cere- 
monial pipes,  bull-roarers,  etc.,  I  have  not  space  here 
to  write.  Suffice  it  to  say  they  have  a  large  place  in 
the  Hopi's  ritual  and  all  should  be  carefully  studied. 

When  I  first  began  to  visit  the  Hopis  my  camps  were 
generally  at  the  foot  of  the  trail,  as  near  to  water  as 
possible.  Every  morning  at  a  very  early  hour  I  was 
awakened  by  a  loud  ringing  of  cowbells,  and  at  first 
I  thought  it  must  be  that  the  Hopis  had  a  herd  of 
cows  and  they  were  driving  them  out  to  pasture.  They 
were  evidently  going  at  a  good  speed,  for  the  bells 
clanged  and  clattered  and  jangled  as  if  being  fiercely 
shaken.  But  when  I  looked  for  the  cows  they  were 
never  to  be  seen.  Then,  too,  as  on  succeeding  morn- 
ings I  listened  I  found  the  animals  must  be  driven  very 
hastily,  for  the  sound  moved  with  great  rapidity  towards, 
past,  away  from  me. 

One  morning  I  determined  to  get  up  and  watch  as 
soon  as  I  heard  the  noise  approaching.  It  was  just 


HOPI  WOMAN  WEAVING  BASKET,  HER  HUSBAND  KNITTING  STOCKINGS. 


HOPI  WOMAN  PREPARING  CORN  MEAL  FOR  MAKING  DOUGHNUTS. 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     89 

as  the  earliest  premonitions  of  dawn  were  being  given 
that  I  was  awakened,  and,  hurriedly  jumping  up,  stood 
on  my  blankets  and  watched.  Soon  one,  two,  four,  and 
more  figures  darted  by  in  the  dim  light,  each  carrying 
a  jangling  cowbell,  and  to  my  amazement  I  found  they 
were  not  cows,  but  Hopi  young  men,  naked  except 
for  a  strap  or  girdle  around  the  loins,  from  which  hung 
the  bell,  resting  upon  the  haunch.  They  were  out  for 
their  morning  run,  and  it  was  not  merely  a  physical 
exercise,  but  had  a  distinct  religious  meaning  to  them. 
As  I  have  elsewhere  written :  — 

"The  Hopi  has  lived  for  many  centuries  among  the 
harsh  conditions  of  the  desert  land.  Everything  is 
wrested  from  nature.  Nothing  is  given  freely,  as  in 
such  a  land  as  southern  California  for  instance.  Water 
is  scarce  and  has  to  be  caught  in  the  valley  and  carried 
with  heavy  labor  to  the  mesa  summit.  The  soil  is 
sandy  and  not  very  productive  unless  every  particle  of 
seed  corn  is  watered  by  irrigation.  Firewood  is  far 
away  and  must  be  cut  and  brought  to  their  mesa  homes 
with  labor.  Wild  grass  seeds  must  be  sought  where 
grass  abounds,  perhaps  scores  of  miles  away,  and  car- 
ried home.  Pinion  nuts  can  only  be  gathered  in  the 
pinion  forests  afar  off,  and  to  gain  mescal  the  pits  must 
be  dug  and  the  fibres  cooked  deep  down  in  the  myste- 
rious recesses  of  the  Grand  Canyon.  The  deer  and 
antelope  are  swift,  and  can  only  be  caught  for  food  by 
those  who  are  stout  of  limb,  powerful  of  lung,  and  crafty 
of  mind.  Hence  in  the  very  necessities  of  their  lives 
they  have  found  the  use  for  physical  development. 
And  this  imperative  physical  need  soon  graduated  into 
a  spiritual  one.  And  the  steps  or  processes  of  reasoning 
by  which  the  chief  motive  is  transferred  from  the  physi- 


9o         THE    INDIANS   OF   THE 

cal  to  the  spiritual  are  readily  traceable.  Of  course, 
they  are  a  '  chosen  people/  '  Those  Above '  have  given 
especial  favors  to  them.  They  must  be  a  credit  to 
those  Powers  who  have  thus  favored  them.  This  im- 
plies a  steady  cultivation  of  their  muscular  powers. 
Not  to  be  strong  is  to  be  a  bad  Hopi,  and  to  be  a  bad 
Hopi  is  to  court  the  disfavor  of  the  gods.  Hence  the 
shamans  or  priests  urge  the  religious  necessity  of  being 
swift  and  strong." 

Nor  is  this  all.  In  days  gone  by  they  were  sur- 
rounded by  predatory  foes.  Physical  endurance  was 
an  essential  condition  of  national  preservation.  With- 
out it  they  would  long  ago  have  been  starved  or  hunted 
out  of  existence.  The  gods  called  upon  them  to  pre- 
serve their  national  life,  to  live  by  cultivation  of  endur- 
ance, hence  the  imposition  of  physical  tasks  as  a 
religious  exercise. 

And  these  morning  runs  of  the  young  men  were  of 
ten,  twenty,  and  even  more  miles,  taken  without  any 
other  food  than  a  few  grains  of  parched  corn. 

It  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  an  Oraibi  or  Mashonga- 
navi  to  run  from  his  home  to  Moenkopi,  a  distance  of 
forty  miles,  over  the  hot  blazing  sands  of  a  real  Ameri- 
can Sahara,  there  hoe  his  corn-field,  and  return  to  his 
home,  within  twenty-four  hours.  The  accompanying 
photograph  of  an  old  man  who  had  made  this  eighty- 
mile  run  was  made  the  morning  after  his  return,  and  he 
showed  not  the  slightest  trace  of  fatigue. 

For  a  dollar  I  have  several  times  engaged  a  young 
man  to  take  a  message  from  Oraibi  to  Ream's  Canyon, 
a  distance  of  seventy-two  miles,  and  he  has  run  on  foot 
the  whole  distance,  delivered  his  message,  and  brought 
me  an  answer  within  thirty-six  hours. 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     91 

One  Oraibi,  Ku-wa-wen-ti-wa,  ran  from  Oraibi  to 
Moenkopi,  thence  to  Walpi,  and  back  to  Oraibi,  a  dis- 
tance of  over  ninety  miles,  in  one  day. 

When  I  was  a  lad  I  got  the  impression  somehow  that 
Indians  made  fire  by  rubbing  two  sticks  together. 
Once  or  twice  I  tried  it.  I  got  two  sticks,  perfectly  dry, 
and  rubbed  and  rubbed  and  rubbed.  But  the  more  I 
rubbed,  the  cooler  the  sticks  seemed  to  get.  I  got  hot, 
but  that  had  no  effect  on  the  sticks. 

Later  in  life,  when  I  began  to  make  my  journeys  of 
exploration  in  the  wilds  of  Nevada,  California,  Arizona, 
and  New  Mexico,  and  I  sometimes  needed  a  fire,  and 
did  n't  have  a  single  match  left,  I  tried  it  again ;  this 
time  not  as  an  experiment,  but  as  a  serious  proposition. 
My  rubbing  of  the  two  sticks,  however,  never  availed 
me  a  particle.  I  might  as  well  have  saved  my  strength 
for  sawing  wood.  Yet  the  Indians  do  get  fire  by  the 
rubbing  of  two  sticks  together,  and  the  occasion  of  their 
doing  it  is  one  of  the  greatest  and  most  wonderful  of 
the  religious  ceremonies  of  the  Hopis.  Dr.  Fewkes  has 
written  for  the  scientific  world  a  full  account  of  it,  and 
from  that  account  I  condense  the  following. 

Few  white  men  have  ever  seen  the  ceremony,  and  did 
they  do  so  and  tell  the  whole  of  what  they  saw  they 
would  not  be  believed. 

Four  societies  of  priests  conduct  the  elaborate  rite  at 
Walpi.  It  is  not  held  at  Sichumavi  or  Hano,  but  is 
conducted  at  Oraibi  and  the  three  villages  of  the  middle 
mesa.  "  The  public  dances  are  conducted  mainly  by 
two  of  the  societies,  whose  actions  are  of  a  phallic  nature. 
These  two  act  as  chorus  in  the  kiva  when  the  fire  is 
made,  but  the  sacred  flame  is  kindled  by  the  latter  two 
societies For  several  days  before  the  ceremony  began, 


92        THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

large  quantities  of  wood  were  piled  near  the  kiva 
hatches,  and  after  the  rites  began,  this  fuel  was  carried 
down  into  the  rooms  and  continually  fed  to  the  flames 
of  the  new  fire  by  an  old  man,  who  never  left  his  task. 
The  flames  of  the  new  fire  were  regarded  with  reverence ; 
no  one  was  allowed  to  light  a  cigarette  from  it  or 
otherwise  profane  it." 

On  the  first  day  the  chiefs  assembled  for  their  ceremo- 
nial smoke,  and  the  next  day  at  early  dawn  one  of  them 
went  to  the  narrow  portion  of  the  mesa  between  Walpi 
and  Sichumavi  and  laid  on  the  trail  one  of  the  puhtabi, 
or  long  strings,  elsewhere  described,  sprinkling  a  little 
meal  and  casting  a  pinch  toward  the  place  of  sunrise. 
At  the  same  time  he  said  a  prayer:  "  Our  Sun,  send  us 
rain."  Just  as  the  sun  appeared  he  "  cried  "  the  an- 
nouncement, of  which  Dr.  Fewkes  gives  the  free 
translation :  — 

"  All  people  awake,  open  your  eyes,  arise ! 

Become  Talahoya  (Child  of  Light),  vigorous,  active,  sprightly. 

Hasten,  Clouds,  from  the  four  world  quarters. 

Come,  Snow,  in  plenty,  that  water  may  be  abundant  when  sum- 
mer comes. 

Come,  Ice,  and  cover  the  fields,  that  after  planting  they  may  yield 
abundantly. 

Let  all  hearts  be  glad. 

The  Wiiwutchimtu  will  assemble  in  four  days. 

They  will  encircle  the  villages,  dancing  and  singing  their  lays. 

Let  the  women  be  ready  to  pour  water  upon  them, 

That  moisture  may  come  in  abundance  and  all  shall  rejoice." 

Four  days  later,  with  elaborate  preparation  and  care- 
fully observed  ritual  the  new  fire  was  made.  About 
a  hundred  participants  were  present.  When  all  were 
ready  the  fire-board  was  held  in  position  by  two 
kneeling  men,  while  two  others  manipulated  the  fire 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     93 

drill.  The  singing  chief  then  gave  the  signal  and 
two  societies  started  a  song,  each  with  different  words 
and  yet  in  unison,  accompanied  by  clanging  of  bells  and 
rattling  of  tortoise  shells  and  deer  hoofs.  The  holes 
of  the  fire-board  and  stones  were  sprinkled  with  corn 
pollen.  The  spindle  or  fire  drill  was  held  vertically 
between  the  palms,  and  in  rotating  it  the  top  was 
pressed  downward.  Smoke  was  produced  in  twenty 
seconds  and  a  spark  of  fire  in  about  a  minute.  The 
spark  smudged  cedar-bark,  which  was  put  in  place  to 
catch  it,  and  then  the  driller  blew  it  into  a  flame.  This 
flame  was  then  carried  to  a  pile  of  greasewood  placed  in 
the  fireplace,  and  as  the  wood  blazed  to  the  ceiling  the 
song  ceased.  Prayer  was  then  offered  by  one  of  the 
chief  priests  of  one  of  the  societies  and  ceremonial 
offerings  sprinkled  into  the  fire.  This  priest  was  fol- 
lowed by  one  from  each  of  the  other  societies  and  by 
individual  worshippers. 

They  then,  in  procession,  paid  a  ceremonial  visit  to 
the  shrine  of  the  Goddess  of  Germs,  which  is  among 
the  rocks  at  the  southwestern  point  of  the  mesa.  It  is 
made  of  flat  stones  set  on  edge,  opened  above  and  on 
one  side,  and  consists  of  a  fetish  of  petrified  wood. 

Then  followed  a  complex  series  of  ceremonies  that 
merely  to  outline  would  require  several  pages.  Some 
of  them  are  public  dances,  others  dramatic  representa- 
tions in  a  crude  fashion  of  what  the  legends  of  the 
Hopis  say  are  certain  events  which  transpired  in  the 
underworld,  and  a  most  important  one  is  the  disposal 
of  the  sacred  embers  of  the  new  fire. 

There  are  few  ceremonies  in  the  world  that  equal  in 
solemnity  and  interest,  and  that  are  more  charming,  than 
those  performed  by  the  parents  and  other  relatives  when 


94         THE    INDIANS    OF  THE 

a  Hopi  baby  comes  into  the  world.  There  are  religion, 
affection,  sentiment,  and  poetry  embraced  in  what  we  — 
the  superior  people  —  would  undoubtedly  term  the 
superstitious  rites  of  these  simple-hearted  people.  One 
reason  for  the  fervor  of  this  rite  is  the  genuine  welcome 
every  Hopi  mother,  and  father  accord  to  their  baby 
when  it  is  born.  It  is  "  good  form  "  among  them  to  be 
proud  of  the  birth  of  their  children.  No  married  woman 
is  happy  unless  she  has  a  "  quiver  full "  of  children,  and 
one  of  her  constant  prayers  before  her  marriage  is  that 
she  may  be  thus  blessed. 

So  when  the  child  comes  there  is  great  rejoicing.  It 
is  immediately  rubbed  all  over  with  ashes  to  keep  the 
hair  from  growing  on  the  body;  or  that,  at  least,  is  the 
reason  the  Hopi  mother  gives  for  allowing  her  little  one 
to  be  scrubbed  all  over  with  the  ashes. 

Then  it  is  wrapped  up  in  a  cotton  blanket  of  the 
mother's  own  weaving,  for  Hopi  women,  and  men  also, 
are  great  experts  in  growing,  spinning,  and  weaving 
cotton.  Now  it  is  ready  for  the  cradle.  This  is  either 
a  piece  of  board  or  a  flat  piece  of  woven  wicker- 
work  about  two  and  a  half  feet  long  and  a  foot  wide. 
There  is  also  fixed  at  the  upper  end  two  or  three  twigs 
arranged  in  a  kind  of  bow,  so  that  a  piece  of  cloth  thrown 
over  them  forms  an  awning  to  protect  the  face  of  the 
child  from  the  sun.  When  this  bow  is  not  in  use  it  can 
be  slipped  over  to  the  back  of  the  cradle.  Strapped  in 
this  queer  cradle,  the  baby  is  either  stretched  out  upon 
the  ground  to  go  to  sleep,  covered  over  with  a  blanket, 
or  reared  up  against  the  wall.  But  if  your  eyes  were 
keen  you  would  see  by  its  side  a  beautiful  white 
ear  of  corn.  And  if  you  saw  it  and  knew  the  Hopi 
mother's  ways  and  her  thoughts,  you  would  find  that  the 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     95 

reason  for  putting  the  corn  there  was  this :  she  believes 
that  the  corn  represents  one  of  her  most  powerful  gods 
on  the  earth,  and  that  if  this  god  is  made  to  feel  kindly 
towards  the  new-born  child  he  will  send  it  good  health 
and  strength  and  skill  in  hunting  and  everything  else 
that  she  desires  for  her  loved  baby.  So,  you  see,  it  is 
mother  love,  combined  with  a  singular  superstition,  that 
makes  the  Hopi  mother  place  the  ear  of  corn  by  the 
side  of  her  sleeping  child. 

When  the  baby  is  twenty  days  old  it  is  — shall  I  say? 
—  baptized.  You  can  hardly  call  it  this,  but,  anyhow, 
it  answers  the  same  thing  as  baptism  does  with  us. 
About  sunset  the  child's  godmother  arrives.  She  is 
generally  the  grandmother  or  aunt  on  the  father's  side. 
Just  as  the  first  streaks  of  light  begin  to  come  in  the 
early  morning  the  ceremony  begins.  After  washing  the 
mother's  head  and  legs  and  feet,  the  baby's  turn  comes. 
The  house  is  full  of  relatives  and  friends  to  watch  and 
bring  good  fortune  to  the  little  one.  A  bowl  of  suds  is 
made  by  beating  the  soapweed  until  the  water  is  covered 
with  beautiful  lather.  Then  the  godmother  takes  an  ear 
of  corn,  dips  it  into  the  suds,  and  touches  the  baby's 
head  with  it.  This  she  does  four  times.  Then  she 
washes  the  baby's  head  very  carefully  and  thoroughly 
in  the  suds.  But  the  washing  would  be  of  no  good 
unless  all  the  baby's  female  relatives  on  the  father's  side 
were  to  dip  their  ears  of  corn  into  the  suds  and  touch 
its  head  with  them  four  times,  just  as  the  godmother 
did.  Now  the  baby  is  washed  all  over,  and  then  — 
strange  to  say  —  the  godmother  fills  her  mouth  full  of 
warm  water,  and,  balancing  the  baby  on  one  hand,  she 
squirts  the  water  from  her  mouth  all  over  the  little  one. 
To  dry  it,  she  holds  it  before  the  fire,  and  when  it  is 


96         THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 

quite  dry  she  rubs  it  with  white  corn-meal,  wraps  it  in  a 
blanket,  and  passes  it  over  to  the  mother,  who  is  seated 
near  to  the  fire.  Just  before  her  are  two  baskets  full 
of  corn-meal,  one  coarsely  and  one  finely  ground. 
Taking  an  old  blanket,  the  godmother  spreads  it  over 
the  mother's  lap,  the  baby  is  placed  on  it,  then  she  takes 
a  little  of  the  fine  meal  and  rubs  it  on  the  face,  arms,  and 
neck  of  the  mother,  and  also  upon  the  face  of  the  child. 
Then  with  the  ear  of  corn  in  her  hand,  and  slowly  and 
regularly  moving  it  up  and  down,  she  prays  first  over 
the  mother,  then  over  the  baby.  I  have  heard  several 
of  these  prayers.  Here  is  one  of  them :  "  Ho-ko-na 
(butterfly),  I  ask  for  you  that  you  live  to  be  old,  that 
you  may  never  be  sick,  that  you  may  have  good  corn 
and  all  good  things.  And  now  I  name  you  Ho-ko-na  " 
(or  whatever  the  name  is  to  be). 

Then  every  woman  and  girl  of  the  father's  relatives 
does  just  the  same  and  prays  the  same  kind  of  prayer; 
but  singular  to  us  is  the  fact  that  each  one  gives  the 
child  any  name  she  prefers.  As  each  one  finishes  her 
prayer,  she  gives  her  ear  of  corn  and  some  sacred  meal 
she  has  brought  with  her  to  the  mother,  who  invariably 
responds  with  the  Hopi  "  Thank  you  !  "  —  "  Es-kwa-li." 

Nobody  knows  at  the  time  which  name  the  baby  will 
have,  as  he  or  she  grows  up.  That  is  left  to  chance  to 
determine  —  generally  the  preference  of  the  mother. 

Now  the  baby  is  put  in  its  cradle,  with  some  of  the 
ears  of  corn  presented  to  the  mother  placed  under  the 
lacing  on  the  breast  of  the  little  one,  and  it  is  ready  to 
be  dedicated  to  the  sun.  After  sweeping  the  floor,  the 
godmother  sprinkles  a  line  of  meal  about  two  inches 
wide  from  the  cradle  to  the  door,  and  the  mother  does 
the  same  thing. 


HOPI    "BOOMERANGS." 

In  the  collection  of  George  Wharton  Jamei. 


HOPI  CEREMONIAL  DRUMS. 

In  the  collection  of  George  Wharton  James, 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     97 

Out  of  doors  the  father  is  anxiously  watching  for  the 
first  direct  light  of  the  sun,  and  the  moment  it  appears 
above  the  horizon  he  gives  the  signal.  Immediately  the 
godmother  picks  up  the  cradle,  so  that  the  baby's  head 
is  towards  the  door,  and  near  to  the  floor,  carries  it  over 
the  line  of  sacred  meal,  the  mother  following.  Each 
has  a  handful  of  meal.  At  the  door  they  stand  side  by 
side.  The  godmother  removes  the  blanket  from  the 
baby's  face,  holds  the  sacred  meal  to  her  mouth,  says 
a  short  prayer,  and  then  sprinkles  the  meal  towards  the 
sun,  and  then  the  mother  does  the  same ;  and,  after 
ceremonially  feeding  the  baby,  all  joining  in  the  feast, 
the  ceremony  is  at  an  end. 

Another  most  beautiful  ceremony  of  the  Hopis  is  that 
which  alternates  with  the  Snake  Dance,  viz.,  the  Lelentu, 
or  Flute  Dance.  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  witnessing 
it  several  times,  and  last  year  (1901)  was  one  of  five 
white  persons  present.  To  me  this  meant  walking  a 
weary  thirteen  miles  over  the  hot  sands  of  the  Painted 
Desert,  carrying  a  camera  weighing  about  fifty  pounds 
on  my  back.  But  the  beauty  and  charm  of  the  cere- 
mony and  the  satisfaction  of  obtaining  the  photographs 
of  it  more  than  repaid  me  for  the  hot  and  exhausting 
walk. 

After  the  secret  kiva  ceremonies  (rites  in  the  under- 
ground chambers  of  the  fraternity  of  the  Flute)  the  first 
public  rites  of  the  day  took  place  at  a  spring  near  the 
home  of  Lolulomai,  the  chief  of  the  Oraibi  pueblo,  and 
about  five  miles  west  of  the  town.  Here  is  one  of  the 
pitiful  springs  upon  which  the  people  depend  for  their 
meagre  supply  of  water.  Just  before  noon  men,  women, 
and  girls  might  have  been  seen  wending  their  way  from 
the  village  on  the  mesa  height,  down  the  steep  trails, 

7 


98         THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

over  the  sandy  way  trodden  for  centuries  by  their  fore- 
fathers, towards  the  location  of  the  spring. 

Every  face  was  as  serious  and  wore  as  grave  and 
earnest  an  expression  as  that  of  a  novice  about  to  be 
confirmed  in  her  holiest  vows.  Arrived  at  the  spring, 
an  eminence  just  above  it  to  the  southwest  was  the 
chosen  site  for  the  preliminaries.  Here  an  hour  or 
more  was  spent  in  prayers,  sprinkling  of  meal  before 
and  upon  the  altar,  and  the  painting  of  the  symbols  of 
the  clan  upon  the  participants. 

Other  priests  during  the  whole  time  were  on  their 
knees  or  in  other  postures  of  reverence,  praying,  sing- 
ing, or  chanting,  and  sprinkling  the  sacred  meal  on  or 
before  the  altar.  A  large  number  of  bahos,  or  prayer 
sticks  and  plumes,  were  used. 

At  this  time  the  chief  priest  left  the  hillside  and 
solemnly  marched  down  to  the  spring.  It  is  circular  in 
shape,  and  with  a  rude  wall  built  around  it.  At  the 
opening  in  the  circle  three  small  gourd  vessels  were 
placed,  two  of  which  held  sacred  water  from  some  far- 
away spring,  and  the  other  was  full  of  honey.  A  singu- 
lar thing  occurred  about  the  filling  of  this  honey  jar.  A 
nest  of  bees  had  located  in  the  wall  of  the  spring,  and 
the  chief  priest,  taking  it  for  granted  that  this  was  a 
good  sign,  had  the  nest  dug  out  and  the  honey  ex- 
tracted from  the  comb,  for  his  sacred  purposes.  After 
he  had  prayed  for  a  while  the  priests  and  women  from 
above  marched  down,  all  except  the  flute  players.  As 
they  stood  around  the  spring  they  sang  and  prayed, 
while  the  chief  priest  stepped  into  the  water,  bowing  his 
face  down  over  it,  and  waving  his  tiponi  in  and  through 
it.  Soon  it  was  a  filthy,  muddy  mess,  instead  of  a  water 
spring,  and  when  it  seemed  mixed  up  enough  he  began 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION      99 

to  dip  his  face  deep  into  it,  while  the  men  and  women 
around  continued  their  singing  and  worship. 

Then  he  came  forth,  and  now  began  a  most  beautiful 
processional  march  around  the  spring,  in  time  to  the 
weird  playing  of  the  priests  above.  After  three  times 
circling  around,  the  group  stood,  facing  the  west,  and 
at  certain  signals  sprinkled  large  handfuls  of  sacred 
meal  in  the  direction  of  the  water.  This  was  followed 
by  a  most  profuse  scattering  of  bahos  in  the  same  man- 
ner. Literally  hundreds  of  them  were  thus  thrown,  and 
I  gathered  (after  the  celebrants  were  gone)  scores  of 
them  for  my  collection.  The  bahos  used  on  this  occa- 
sion were  mere  downy  feathers  to  which  cotton  strings 
were  attached.  The  effect  as  the  meal  and  the  feathers 
were  thrown  was  remarkably  beautiful,  and  the  scene 
was  most  impressive ;  none  the  less  so  for  its  strangeness 
and  peculiarity. 

These  concluded  the  ceremonies  at  this  spring.  In 
the  meantime  the  chief  priest  had  gone  to  his  house 
over  the  hill,  and  from  there  had  started  out  a  group  of 
young  men  who  were  to  race  to  the  spring  near  the 
mesa  —  four  miles  away.  It  was  a  scorching  hot  day  — 
as  I  had  found  out  in  my  own  walk  —  and  yet  these 
young  men  bounded  over  the  sandy  trail  like  hunted 
deer.  It  was  a  glorious  sight  to  witness  them.  Ten  or 
a  dozen  athletic  youths,  clad  scantily,  their  bronzed 
figures  in  perfect  proportion,  revealing  their  strength 
and  power,  their  long  black  hair  waving  out  behind 
them,  darting  off  like  strings  from  a  bow  across  the 
desert. 

Slowly  we  followed  them,  and  when  we  arrived  at  the 
other  spring  found  they  had  long  ago  passed  it,  and 
the  victor  had  received  his  reward. 


ioo       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

Similar  ceremonies  were  gone  through  at  the  near-by 
spring  as  at  the  one  farther  away,  and  when  they  were 
completed  the  whole  party  formed  in  procession,  and 
as  solemnly  as  if  it  were  a  funeral  march  proceeded 
up  the  steep  trail  to  the  village  and  there  repeated  some 
of  the  ceremonies  already  described. 

The  purport  of  all  this  it  is  comparatively  easy  to 
understand.  The  Snake  Dance  is  a  prayer  for  rain, 
which,  according  to  the  Hopi's  ideas,  is  stored  in  vast 
reservoirs  in  the  heavens.  He  also  believes  that  there 
are  vast  water  supplies  under  the  earth,  and  so,  every 
other  year,  he  petitions  the  powers  that  govern  and  con- 
trol these  subterranean  reservoirs  to  loosen  the  waters 
and  let  them  flow  forth  into  the  springs. 

In  one  of  the  dances  of  the  Navaho  they  symbolize 
the  water  from  above  and  the  water  from  below  by  link- 
ing the  first  fingers  together.  This  gives  us  the  Greek 
fret,  and  when  this  symbol  is  copied  in  their  basketry, 
•we  see  this  classic  design,  purely  the  result  of  imitation, 
and  having  as  clear  a  meaning  to  the  Indian  mind  as  the 
cross  has  to  the  Christian. 

Reluctantly  I  am  compelled  to  omit  a  brief  account 
of  the  Basket  Dance,  which,  however,  I  have  partially 
described  in  my  book  on  "Indian  Basketry." 

The  Hopis  have  very  clear  and  distinct  conceptions 
of  a  spirit  life  beyond  the  grave.  It  is  not  the  "  happy 
hunting-ground,"  though,  to  which  the  general  ideas  of 
the  whites  consign  them.  Theirs  is  a  world  of  spirits, 
with  some  advantages  over  the  world  of  human  beings, 
but  where  life  is  very  similar  to  what  it  was  on  earth. 
There  is  neither  punishment  awarded  for  wrong  done  on 
earth,  nor  reward  for  good  living.  It  is  simply  a  con- 
tinuation of  previous  existences.  When  a  child  is  born 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     101 

the  spirit  is  supposed  to  come  from  the  underworld 
through  an  opening  in  the  earth's  crust  called  Shi-pd-pu, 
and  when  the  grown  man  dies  his  spirit  returns  thither. 
His  body  is  buried  in  a  cleft  of  the  rocks  on  the  mesa 
side,  a  mile  or  so  away  from  the  village.  The  body  is 
wrapped  up  and  placed  in  the  rocky  grave,  and  then 
covered  with  loose  rocks.  Food  and  drink  are  placed  on 
the  grave,  so  that  when  the  spirit  ascends  from  the  body 
and  begins  its  long  journey  to  Shi-pd-pu  and  thence 
to  the  underworld,  it  may  have  food  wherewith  to  gain 
strength.  The  curious  visitor  will  also  notice  the  baho 
which  is  thrust  between  the  rocks  until  it  touches  the 
body.  Another  baho  touching  this  upright  one  is  placed 
on  the  grave  pointing  toward  the  southwest.  These 
bahos  are  especially  prepared  by  the  shaman,  or  "  medi- 
cine man,"  and  are  for  the  purpose  of  guiding  the  spirit 
as  it  leaves  the  body.  If  no  baho  were  there,  the  spirit 
might  grope  in  darkness,  trying  to  force  its  way  down ; 
but,  being  directed  by  the  prayers  of  the  shaman,  the 
disembodied  spirit  immediately  realizes  the  guiding 
power  of  the  baho,  and,  following  it,  readies  the  com- 
panion baho  pointing  to  the  southwest,  the  direction  it 
must  travel  to  reach  the  entrance  to  the  underworld. 
This  entrance  to  the  underworld  was  long  thought  to 
be  in  the  San  Francisco  Mountains  near  Flagstaff.  But 
Dr.  Fewkes  explains  this  to  be  an  error.  The  Shi-pd-pu 
is,  to  the  Hopi,  the  "  sun-house  or  place  of  sunset  at  the 
winter  solstice.  As  seen  from  Walpi,  the  entrance  to 
the  sun-house  is  indicated  by  a  notch  on  the  horizon 
situated  between  the  San  Francisco  range  and  the 
Eldon  mesa,"  hence  the  conception  that  the  entrance 
to  the  underworld  was  in  that  exact  location. 


102       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 


CHAPTER  VII 
THE   HOPI   SNAKE   DANCE 

WHILE  perhaps  no  more  important  than  others  of 
the  many  ceremonies  of  the  Hopis,  the  Snake 
Dance  is  by  far  the  widest  known  and  most  exciting 
and  thrilling  to  the  spectator.  There  have  been  many 
accounts  of  it  written,  yet  no  less  an  authority  than  Dr. 
Jesse  Walter  Fewkes  of  the  Smithsonian  Institution 
asserts  that  the  major  portion  of  them  are  not  worth  the 
paper  they  are  written  on.  Inaccurate  in  outline,  faulty 
in  detail,  they  utterly  fail,  in  the  most  part,  to  grasp  the 
deep  importance  of  the  ceremony  to  the  religious  Hopis. 
It  is  commonly  described  as  a  wild,  chaotic,  yelling, 
shouting,  pagan  dance,  instead  of  the  solemn  dignified 
rite  it  is.  From  various  articles  of  my  own  written  at 
different  times  I  mainly  extract  the  following  account 
and  explanations. 

This  dance  alternates  in  each  village  with  the  Lelentu, 
or  Flute  ceremony,  so  that,  if  the  visitor  goes  on  suc- 
cessive years  to  the  same  village,  he  will  see  one  year 
the  Snake  Dance  and  on  the  following  year  the  Lelentu. 
But  if  he  alternates  his  visits  to  the  different  villages  he 
may  see  the  Snake  Dance  every  year,  and,  as  the  cere- 
monies are  not  all  held  simultaneously,  he  may  witness 
the  open-air  portion  of  the  ceremony,  which  is  the  Snake 
Dance  proper,  three  times  on  the  even  years  and  twice  on 
the  odd  years.  For  instance,  in  the  year  1905  it  will 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     103 

occur  at  Walpi  and  Mashonganavi ;  and  in  1906  at  Oraibi, 
Shipauluvi,  and  Shungopavi. 

The  Hopis  are  keen  observers  of  all  celestial  and  ter- 
restrial phenomena,  and,  as  soon  as  the  month  of 
August  draws  near,  the  Snake  and  Antelope  fraternities 
meet  in  joint  session  to  determine,  by  the  meteorologi- 
cal signs  with  which  they  are  familiar,  the  date  upon 
which  the  ceremonies  shall  begin. 

This  decided,  the  public  crier  is  called  upon  to  make 
the  announcement  to  the  whole  people.  Standing  on 
the  house-top,  in  a  peculiarly  monotonous  and  yet  jerky 
shout  he  announces  the  time  when  the  elders  have 
decided  the  rites  shall  commence.  Sometimes,  as  at 
Walpi,  this  announcement  is  made  sixteen  days  before 
the  active  ceremonies  begin,  the  latter,  in  all  the  villages, 
lasting  nine  days  and  terminating  in  the  popularly 
known  open-air  dance,  after  which  four  days  of  feasting 
and  frolic  are  indulged  in,  thus  making,  in  all,  twenty 
days  devoted  to  the  observance. 

For  all  practical  purposes,  however,  nine  days  cover 
all  the  ceremonies  connected  with  it. 

At  Walpi,  on  the  first  of  the  nine  days,  the  first  cere- 
mony consists  of  the  "  setting  up  "  of  the  Antelope  altar. 
This  is  an  interesting  spectacle  to  witness,  as  at  Walpi 
the  altar  is  more  elaborate  and  complex  than  in  any  other 
village.  It  consists,  for  the  greater  part,  of  a  mosaic 
made  of  different  colored  sands,  in  the  use  of  which 
some  of  the  Hopis  are  very  dexterous.  These  sands  are 
sprinkled  on  the  floor.  First  a  border  is  made  of  several 
parallel  rows  or  lines  of  different  colors.  Within  this 
border  clouds  are  represented,  below  which  four  zigzag 
lines  are  made.  These  lines  figure  the  lightning,  which 
is  the  symbol  of  the  Antelope  fraternity.  Two  of  these 


104       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

zigzags  are  male,  and  two  female,  for  all  things,  even 
inanimate,  have  sex  among  this  strange  people.  In  the 
place  of  honor,  on  the  edge  of  the  altar,  is  placed  the 
"  tiponi,"  or  palladium  of  the  fraternity.  This  consists 
of  a  bunch  of  feathers,  fastened  at  the  bottom  with 
cotton  strings  to  a  round  piece  of  cottonwood.  Corn 
stalks,  placed  in  earthenware  jars,  are  also  to  be  seen, 
and  then  the  whole  of  the  remaining  three  sides  of  the 
altar  are  surrounded  by  crooks,  to  which  feathers  are 
attached,  and  bahos,  or  prayer  sticks.  It  was  with 
trepidation  I  dared  to  take  my  camera  into  the  mystic 
depths  of  the  Antelope  kiva.  I  had  guessed  at  focus 
for  the  altar,  and  when  I  placed  the  camera  against  the 
wall,  pointed  toward  the  sacred  place,  the  Antelope 
priests  bid  me  remove  it  immediately.  I  begged  to 
have  it  remain  so  long  as  I  stayed,  but  was  compelled 
to  promise  I  would  not  place  my  head  under  the  black 
cloth  and  look  at  the  altar.  This  I  readily  promised, 
but  at  the  first  opportunity  when  no  one  was  between 
the  lens  and  the  altar,  I  quietly  removed  the  cap  from 
the  lens,  marched  away  and  sat  down  with  one  of  the 
priests,  while  the  dim  light  performed  its  wonderful 
work  on  the  sensitive  plate.  A  fine  photograph  was  the 
result. 

The  ceremonies  of  the  Antelope  kiva  for  the  succeed- 
ing days  consist  of  the  making  of  bahos,  or  prayer  sticks, 
ceremonial  smoking,  praying,  and  singing.  But  the 
profound  ritualistic  importance  attached  to  every  act 
can  scarcely  be  estimated  by  those  who  have  not  per- 
sonally seen  the  ceremonies.  The  prayer  sticks  are 
prayed  over  and  consecrated  at  every  step  in  their 
manufacture,  and  the  altar  is  prayed  over  and  blessed 
each  day.  Every  object  used  is  consecrated  with 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     105 

elaborate  ritual,  and  the  great  smoke  is  made  by  each 
one  solemnly  participating  in  the  smoking  of  dmowtih 
(the  sacred  pipe).  The  smoke  from  this  pipe  soon  fills 
the  chamber  with  its  pleasant  fragrance  (the  tobacco 
used  being  a  weed  native  to  the  Hopi  region),  and  it  is 
supposed  to  ascend  to  the  heavens  and  thus  provoke 
the  descent  of  the  rain. 

The  songs  are  sung  to  the  accompaniment  of  rattling 
by  the  priests,  and  each  day  the  whole  of  the  sixteen 
songs  are  rendered. 

During  the  singing  of  one  day  one  of  the  priests 
strikes  the  floor  with  a  blunt  instrument,  and  Wiki,  the 
chief  priest,  explained  this  as  the  sending  of  a  mystic 
message  to  a  member  of  the  Snake-Antelope  fraternity  at 
far-away  Acoma,  telling  him  that  the  ceremonies  were 
now  in  progress  and  asking  him  to  come.  Strange  to 
say,  eight  days  later,  certain  Acomas  did  come,  thus 
giving  color  to  the  assertion  of  the  Hopi  fraternities  that 
the  Snake  Dance  once  used  to  be  performed  on  the 
glorious  penyol  height  of  Acoma,  as  was  briefly  stated 
by  Espejo. 

It  is  in  the  Snake  kiva  that  the  snake  charm  liquid  is 
made.  In  the  centre  of  a  special  altar  a  basket  made 
by  a  Havasupai  Indian  is  placed.  In  this  are  dropped 
some  shells,  charms,  and  a  few  pieces  of  crushed  nuts 
and  sticks.  Then  one  of  the  priests,  with  considerable 
ritual,  pours  into  the  basket  from  north,  west,  south, 
east,  up  and  down  (the  six  cardinal  points  of  the  Hopi), 
liquid  from  a  gourd  vessel.  By  this  time  all  the  priests 
are  squatted  around  the  basket,  chewing  something  that 
one  of  the  older  priests  had  given  them.  This  chewed 
substance  is  then  placed  in  the  liquid  of  the  basket 
Water  from  gourds  on  the  roof  is  also  put  in. 


io6       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

Then  all  is  ready  for  the  preparation  of  the  charm. 
Each  priest  holds  in  his  hand  the  snake  whip  (a  stick  to 
which  eagle  feathers  are  attached),  while  the  ceremonial 
pipe-lighter,  after  lighting  the  sacred  pipe,  hands  it  to  the 
chief  priest,  addressing  him  in  terms  of  relationship. 
Smoking  it  in  silence,  the  chief  puffs  the  smoke  into  the 
liquid  and  hands  it  to  his  neighbor,  who  does  the  like  and 
passes  it  on.  All  thus  participate  in  solemn  silence. 

Then  the  chief  priest  picks  up  his  rattle  and  begins  a 
prayer  which  is  as  fervent  as  one  could  desire.  Shaking 
the  rattle,  all  the  priests  commence  to  sing  a  weird  song 
in  rapid  time,  while  one  of  them  holds  upright  in  the 
middle  of  the  basket  a  black  stick,  on  the  top  of  which 
is  tied  a  feather.  Moving  their  snake  whips  to  and  fro, 
they  sing  four  songs,  when  one  of  the  chiefs  picks  up  all 
the  objects  on  the  altar  and  places  them  in  the  basket. 

In  a  moment  the  kiva  rings  with  the  fierce  yells  of  the 
Hopi  war-cry,  while  the  priest  vigorously  stirs  the 
mixture  in  the  basket.  And  the  rapid  song  is  sung 
while  the  priest  stirs  and  kneads  the  contents  of  the 
basket  with  his  hands.  Sacred  meal  is  cast  into  the 
mixture,  while  the  song  sinks  to  low  tones,  and  gradually 
dies  away  altogether,  though  the  quiet  shaking  of  the 
rattles  and  gentle  tremor  of  the  snake  whips  continue 
for  a  short  time. 

Then  there  is  a  most  painful  silence.  The  hush  is 
intense,  the  stillness  perfect.  It  is  broken  by  the  prayer 
of  the  chief  priest,  who  sprinkles  more  sacred  meal  into 
the  mixture.  Others  do  the  same.  The  liquid  is  again 
stirred,  and  then  sprinkled  to  all  the  cardinal  points,  and 
the  same  is  done  in  the  air  outside,  above  the  kiva. 

Then  the  stirring  priest  takes  some  white  earth,  and 
mixing  it  with  the  charm  liquid,  makes  white  paint 


THE  CHIEF  ANTELOPE  PRIEST  DEPOSITING  PAHOS  AT  THE  SHRINE  OF 
THE  SPIDER  WOMAN. 


THROWING  THE  SNAKES  INTO  THE  CIRCLE  OF  SACRED  MEAL. 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     107 

which  he  rubs  upon  the  breast,  back,  cheeks,  forearms, 
and  legs  of  the  chief  priest.  All  the  other  priests  are 
then  likewise  painted. 

Now  there  is  nothing  whatever  in  this  liquid  that  can 
either  charm  a  snake  or  preserve  an  Indian  from  the 
deadly  nature  of  its  bite.  Even  the  Hopis  know  that  all 
its  virtue  is  communicated  in  the  ceremonies  I  have  so 
imperfectly  and  inadequately  described.  I  make  this 
explanation  lest  my  reader  assume  that  there  is  some 
subtle  poison  used  in  this  mixture,  which,  if  given  to  the 
snakes,  stupefies  them  and  renders  them  unable  to  do 
injury. 

The  singing  of  the  sixteen  songs  referred  to  is  a  most 
solemn  affair.  Snake  and  Antelope  priests  meet  in  the 
kiva  of  the  latter.  The  chief  priests  take  their  places 
at  the  head  of  the  altar,  and  the  others  line  up  on  either 
side,  the  Snake  priests  to  the  left,  the  Antelope  to  the 
right  Kneeling  on  one  knee,  the  two  rows  of  men, 
with  naked  bodies,  solemn  faces,  bowed  heads,  no  voice 
speaking  above  a  whisper,  demand  respect  for  their 
earnestness  and  evident  sincerity.  To  one  unacquainted 
with  their  language  and  the  meaning  of  the  songs,  the 
weird  spectacle  of  all  these  nude  priests,  kneeling  and 
solemnly  chanting  in  a  sonorous  humming  manner,  their 
voices  occasionally  rising  in  a  grand  crescendo,  speedily 
to  diminish  in  a  thrilling  pianissimo,  produces  a  serious- 
ness wonderfully  akin  to  the  spirit  of  worship. 

According  to  the  legendary  lore  of  the  Snake  clan 
the  Zunis,  Hopis,  Paiutis,  Havasupais,  and  white  men 
all  made  their  ascent  from  the  lower  world  to  the  earth's 
surface  through  a  portion  of  Pis-is-bai-ya  (the  Grand 
Canyon  of  the  Colorado  River)  near  where  the  Little 
Colorado  empties  into  the  main  river.  As  the  various 


io8       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

families  emerged,  some  went  north  and  some  south. 
Those  that  went  north  were  driven  back  by  fierce  cold 
which  they  encountered,  and  built  houses  for  themselves 
at  a  place  called  To-ko-na-bi.  But,  unfortunately,  this 
was  a  desert  place  where  but  little  rain  fell,  and  their 
corn  could  not  grow.  In  their  pathetic  language  the 
Hopis  say,  "  The  clouds  were  small  and  the  corn  weak." 
The  chief  of  the  village  had  two  sons  and  two  daughters. 
The  oldest  of  these  sons,  Tiyo,  resolved  to  commit  him- 
self to  the  waters  of  the  Colorado  River,  for  they,  he 
was  convinced,  would  convey  him  to  the  underworld, 
where  he  could  learn  from  the  gods  how  always  to  be 
assured  of  their  favor. 

(This  idea  of  the  Colorado  River  flowing  to  the 
underworld  is  interesting  as  illustrative  of  Hopi  reason- 
ing. They  said,  and  still  say,  this  water  flows  from  the 
upperworld  in  the  far-away  mountains,  it  flows  on  and 
on  and  never  returns,  therefore  it  must  go  to  the  inner 
recesses  of  the  underworld.) 

Tiyo  made  for  himself  a  kind  of  coffin  boat  from  the 
hewed-out  trunk  of  a  cottonwood  tree.  Into  this  he 
sealed  himself  and  was  committed  to  the  care  of  the 
raging  river.  His  rude  boat  dashed  down  the  rapids, 
over  the  falls,  into  the  secret  bowels  of  the  earth  (for 
the  Indians  still  believe  the  river  disappears  under  the 
mountainous  rocks),  and  finally  came  to  a  stop.  Tiyo 
looked  out  of  his  peepholes  and  saw  the  Spider  Woman, 
who  invited  him  to  leave  his  boat  and  enter  her  house. 
The  Spider  Woman  is  a  personage  of  great  power  in 
Hopi  mythology.  She  it  is  who  weaves  the  clouds  in 
the  heavens,  and  makes  the  rain  possible.  Tiyo  accepted 
the  invitation,  entered  her  house,  and  received  from  her 
a  powder  which  gave  him  the  power  to  become  invisible 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     109 

at  will.  Following  the  instructions  of  the  Spider  Woman, 
he  descended  the  hatch-like  entrance  to  Shi-pd-pu,  and 
soon  came  to  the  chamber  of  the  Snake-Antelope  people. 
Here  the  chief  received  him  with  great  cordiality,  and 
said :  — 

"  I  cause  the  rain  clouds  to  come  and  go, 
And  I  make  the  ripening  winds  to  blow ; 
I  direct  the  going  and  coming  of  all  the  mountain  animals. 
Before  you  return  to  the  earth  you  will  desire  of  me  many  things, 
Freely  a.sk  of  me  and  you  shall  abundantly  receive." 

For  a  while  he  wandered  about  in  the  underworld, 
learning  this  and  that,  here  and  yonder,  and  at  last  re- 
turned to  the  Snake-Antelope  and  Snake  kivas.  Here 
he  learned  all  the  necessary  ceremonies  for  making  the 
rain  clouds  come  and  go,  the  ripening  winds  to  blow, 
and  to  order  the  coming  and  going  of  the  animals. 
With  words  of  affection  the  chief  bestowed  upon  him 
various  things  from  both  the  kivas,  such  as  material  of 
which  the  snake  kilt  was  to  be  made,  with  instructions 
as  to  its  weaving  and  decoration,  sands  to  make  the 
altars,  etc.  Then  he  brought  to  Tiyo  two  maidens, 
both  of  whom  knew  the  snake-bite  charm  liquid,  and 
instructed  him  that  one  was  to  be  his  wife  and  the 
other  the  wife  of  his  brother,  to  whom  he  must  convey 
her  in  safety.  Then,  finally,  he  gave  to  him  the 
"  tiponi,"  the  sacred  standard,  and  told  him,  "  This  is 
your  mother.  She  must  ever  be  protected  and  revered. 
In  all  your  prayers  and  worship  let  her  be  at  the  head 
of  your  altar  or  your  words  will  not  reach  Those  Above." 

Tiyo  now  started  on  his  return  journey.  When  he 
reached  the  home  of  the  Spider  Woman,  she  bade  him 
and  the  maidens  rest  while  she  wove  a  pannier-like 
basket,  deep  and  narrow,  with  room  to  hold  all  three  of 


no       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

them.  When  the  basket  was  finished  she  saw  them 
comfortably  seated,  told  them  not  to  leave  the  basket,  and 
immediately  disappeared  through  the  hatch  into  the 
lower  world.  Tiyo  and  the  maidens  waited,  until  slowly 
a  filament  gently  descended  from  the  clouds,  attached 
itself  to  the  basket,  and  then  carefully  and  safely  drew 
Tiyo  and  the  maidens  to  the  upperworld.  Tiyo  gave 
the  younger  maiden  to  his  brother,  and  then  announced 
that  in  sixteen  days  he  would  celebrate  the  marriage 
feast.  Then  he  and  his  betrothed  retired  to  the  Snake- 
Antelope  kiva,  while  his  brother  and  the  other  maiden 
retired  to  the  Snake  kiva.  On  the  fifth  day  after  the 
announcement  the  Snake  people  from  the  underworld 
came  to  the  upperworld,  went  to  the  kivas,  and  ate  corn 
pollen  for  food.  Then  they  left  the  kivas  and  disap- 
peared. But  Tiyo  and  the  maidens  knew  that  they 
had  only  changed  their  appearance,  for  they  were  in  the 
valley  in  the  form  of  snakes  and  other  reptiles.  So  he 
commanded  his  people  to  go  into  the  valleys  and  cap- 
ture them,  bring  them  to  the  kivas  and  wash  them  and 
then  dance  with  them.  Four  days  were  spent  in  catch- 
ing them  from  the  four  world  quarters;  then,  with 
solemn  ceremony,  they  were  washed,  and,  while  the 
prayers  were  offered,  the  snakes  listened  to  them,  so 
that  when,  at  the  close  of  the  dance,  where  they  danced 
with  their  human  brothers,  they  were  taken  back  to  the 
valley  and  released,  they  were  able  to  return  to  the 
underworld  and  carry  to  the  gods  there  the  petitions 
that  their  human  brothers  had  uttered  upon  the  earth. 

This,  in  the  main,  is  the  snake  legend.  The  catching 
of  the  snakes  foreshadowed  in  the  snake  legend  is  faith- 
fully carried  out  each  year  by  the  Snake  men.  After 
earnest  prayer,  each  man  is  provided  with  a  hoe,  a  snake 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     in 

whip,  consisting  of  feathers  tied  to  two  sticks,  a  sack  of 
sacred  meal  (corn-meal  especially  prayed  and  smoked 
over  by  the  chief  priest),  and  a  small  buckskin  bag,  and 
on  the  fourth  day  after  the  setting  up  of  the  Antelope 
altar  they  go  out  to  the  north  for  the  purpose  of  catch- 
ing the  snakes.  Familiarity  from  childhood  with  the 
haunts  of  the  snakes,  which  are  never  molested,  enables 
them  to  go  almost  directly  to  places  where  they  may  be 
found.  As  soon  as  a  reptile  is  seen,  prayers  are  offered, 
sacred  meal  sprinkled  upon  him,  the  snake  whip  gently 
stroked  upon  him,  and  then  he  is  seized  and  placed  in 
the  bag.  In  the  evening  the  priests  return  and  deposit 
their  snakes  in  a  large  earthenware  olla  provided  for  the 
occasion.  I  should  have  noted  that  before  they  go  out 
their  altar  is  erected.  This  varies  in  the  different  vil- 
lages, the  most  complete  and  perfect  altar  being  at 
Walpi.  At  Oraibi  the  altar  consists  of  the  two  wooden 
images  —  the  little  war  gods  —  named  Pu-ii-kon-hoy-a 
and  Pal-un-hoy-a ;  and  in  1898  I  succeeded,  with  con- 
siderable difficulty,  in  getting  into  the  Snake  kiva  and 
making  a  fairly  good  photograph  of  these  gods. 

The  catching  of  the  snakes  occupies  four  days,  one 
day  for  each  of  the  four  world  quarters. 

At  near  sunset  of  the  eighth  day  a  public  dance  of 
the  Antelope  priests  takes  place  in  the  plaza,  similar  in 
many  respects  to  the  Snake  Dance,  except  that  corn 
stalks  are  carried  by  the  priests  instead  of  snakes. 

On  the  morning  of  the  ninth  day  the  race  of  the 
young  men  occurs.  This  is  an  exciting  scene.  Long 
before  sunrise  the  Hopis,  and  as  many  visitors  as  have 
climbed  the  mesa  heights,  huddle  together  or  sleepily 
sit  watching  a  point  far  off  in  the  desert.  It  is  from 
that  region  —  one  of  the  springs  —  the  racers  are  to 


ii2       THE    INDIANS   OF   THE 

come.  Soon  they  are  seen  in  the  far-away  distance  as 
tiny  specks,  moving  over  the  tawny  sand,  and  scarcely 
distinguishable.  One  morning  I  stayed  Jselow  at  the 
spring  on  the  western  side  of  the  mesa  to  watch  them. 
The  whole  line  of  the  mesa-top  ruled  an  irregular  but 
clearly  defined  line  against  the  morning  sky.  The  air 
was  clear  and  pure,  sweet  and  cool.  From  the  Gap  to 
the  end  of  the  mesa  upon  which  Walpi  stands  crowds 
of  spectators  were  silhouetted  against  the  sky.  The 
background,  seen  from  my  low  angle  of  vision,  was  a 
pure  blue;  above,  the  sky  was  mottled  with  white 
clouds.  On  every  projecting  point  which  afforded  a  view 
the  spectators  stood,  tiny  figures  taken  from  a  child's 
Noah's  Ark,  chunky  bodies,  with  a  crowning  ball  of 
wood  for  head.  But  even  at  that  distance  and  against 
the  coming  sunlight  the  brilliant  colors  of  the  dresses  of 
the  Indians,  men  and  women,  were  revealed.  Every 
note  in  the  gorgeous  gamut  of  color  was  played  in 
fantastic  and  unrestrained  melody.  At  Walpi  the  spec- 
tators crowded  the  house-tops,  which  there  overlook  the 
very  edge  of  the  mesa.  The  point  was  crowded.  The 
morning  light  was  just  touching  the  cliffs  of  the  west 
when  the  sound  of  the  coming  bells  was  heard.  Jingle, 
jingle,  jingle,  they  came,  growing  in  sound  at  every  step. 
There  was  movement  among  the  spectators,  each  one 
craning  his  neck  to  see  the  strenuous  efforts  of  the 
runners.  Jingle,  jingle,  jingle,  louder  and  louder,  show- 
ing that  the  strides  of  these  runners  are  great ;  they  are 
making  rapid  bites  at  the  distance  that  intervenes  be- 
tween them  and  the  goal.  Now  they  can  be  individually 
discerned.  Their  reddish-brown  bodies,  long  black 
hair  streaming  behind,  sunflowers  crowning  some,  heav- 
ing chests,  tremendous  strides,  swinging  gait,  make  a 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     113 

fascinating  picture.  Now  they  crowd  each  other  on  the 
sandy  trail.  A  spurt  is  being  made,  and  one  of  the 
rear  men  passes  to  the  front  and  becomes  the  leader. 
From  the  mesa  heights  the  shouts  and  cheers  denote 
that  his  success  has  been  observed.  Others  crowd  along. 
The  spectators  become  excited  and  cheer  on  their 
favorites.  Now  the  foot  of  the  steep  portion  of  the 
trail  is  reached.  Surely  this  precipitous  ascent  will 
abate  their  ardor  and  slacken  their  speed.  The  steps 
are  high,  and  it  is  a  rise  of  several  hundred  feet  to  the 
mesa-top.  The  very  difficulties  seem  to  spur  them  on 
to  greater  effort.  With  bounds  like  those  of  deer  or 
chamois,  up  they  fly,  two  steps  at  a  time.  The  pace 
and  ascent  are  killing,  but  they  are  trained  to  it,  having 
spent  their  lives  running  over  these  hot  sands  and  climb- 
ing these  trails.  To  them  a  "  rush  "  up  the  mesa  heights 
is  a  part  of  their  religious  training.  The  priests  are  now 
ready  to  receive  them  at  the  head  of  the  trail.  The  first 
to  arrive  is  the  winner,  and  he  is  sprinkled  with  the 
sacred  meal  and  water,  and  then  he  hurries  on  to  the 
Antelope  kiva,  where  the  chief  priest  gives  him  bahos, 
sacred  meal,  and  an  amulet  of  great  power.  The  other 
racers  in  the  meantime  have  reached  the  summit,  and 
I  could  see  their  running  figures  on  the  narrow  neck  of 
rock  which  connects  Sichumavi  with  Walpi.  They 
are  going  to  deposit  prayer  offerings  at  an  appointed 
shrine.  On  their  arrival  the  race  is  done. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  racers  at  the  head  of  the  trail 
at  Mashonganavi,  in  1901,  I  secured  a  photograph  show- 
ing one  of  the  priests  shooting  out  a  singular  appliance 
which  represents  the  lightning. 

But  on  the  lower  platform  of  the  mesa  another  excit- 
ing scene  is  transpiring.  A  group  of  young  maidens, 

8 


H4       THE    INDIANS   OF   THE 

with  their  mothers  and  sisters,  await  the  coming  of 
young  men  and  boys,  each  of  whom  carries  a  corn  stalk, 
a  melon,  or  a  sunflower.  As  soon  as  the  youths  arrive 
the  maidens  dart  after  them,  and  for  a  few  minutes  a 
good-natured  but  exciting  and  excitable  scuffle  goes  on, 
in  which  the  girls  endeavor  to  seize  from  the  boys  the 
stalks,  etc.,  they  carry. 

On  the  noon  of  the  ninth  day  the  ceremony  of  wash- 
ing the  snakes  takes  place  in  the  Snake  kiva. 

It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  only  the  members  of 
the  fraternity  engaged  in  the  ceremonies  are  permitted 
to  enter  the  kivas  when  the  rites  are  being  performed. 
Indeed,  no  other  Hopi  can  be  prevailed  upon  to  ap- 
proach anywhere  near  these  kivas  whilst  the  symbol 
which  denotes  that  the  ceremonies  are  being  conducted 
is  displayed. 

Indeed,  he  believes  that  his  profaning  foot  will  im- 
mediately produce  the  most  awful  effects  upon  his  body. 
At  one  kiva  he  will  swell  up  and  "  burst " ;  at  another, 
a  great  horn  will  grow  out  from  his  forehead  and  he 
will  die  in  horrible  agonies.  The  first  time  I  was  per- 
mitted to  see  this  ceremony  at  Walpi  was  while  Kopeli 
was  alive.  Kopeli  was  a  Hopi  of  great  power  and 
ability  in  a  variety  of  ways,  who  had  a  broad  way  of 
looking  at  things,  and  was  very  friendly  with  the  white 
men  who  came  in  the  proper  spirit  to  study  the  life  of 
his  people.  I  had  been  allowed  to  see  all  the  earlier 
of  the  secret  kiva  ceremonies,  but  when  the  day  arrived 
on  which  the  snakes  were  to  be  washed  in  the  kiva, 
Kopeli  was  especially  concerned  on  my  behalf.  He  said  : 
"  So  far  '  Those  Above '  have  not  found  any  fault,  and 
you  have  not  been  harmed  in  the  kiva;  but  to-day 
we  wash  the  snakes.  You  will  surely  be  in  danger 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     115 

if  you  gaze  upon  the  '  elder  brothers.' "  Placing  my 
arm  around  his  lithe  body,  I  gave  Kopeli  an  unexpected 
dig  in  the  stomach.  Then  I  said,  quite  solemnly: 
"  Kopeli,  your  stomach  is  a  Hopi  one ;  you  swell  up 
and  bust  easy.  But  feel  of  me"  —  and,  taking  his 
thumb,  I  gave  myself  a  "  dig "  with  it  upon  a  solid 
pocketbook  which  I  carried  in  my  vest  pocket.  "  Do 
you  feel  that?"  I  asked.  "Yes,"  he  replied.  "And 
you  sabe  white  man's  steam-engine,  Kopeli,  down  on 
the  railroad  ?  "  "  Yes  !  I  sabe."  "  Well,"  said  I,  "  that 
steam-engine  is  made  of  boiler-iron,  and  I  am  all  same 
boiler-iron  inside.  I  no  bust !  " 

With  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye,  that  showed  he 
appreciated  the  joke,  he  said,  "  Mabbe  so !  You  no 
bust ;  you  stay !  "  And  I  stayed. 

This  washing  ceremony  is  a  purely  ceremonial  ob- 
servance. The  priests  have  ceremonially  washed  them- 
selves, but  their  snake  brothers  are  unable  to  do  this, 
hence  they  must  have  it  done  for  them. 

In  the  underground  kiva,  hewn  out  of  the  solid  rock 
—  a  place  some  sixteen  feet  square  —  squat  or  sit  the 
thirty-four  or  five  priests.  I  was  allowed  to  take  my 
place  right  among  them  and  to  join  in  the  singing. 
When  all  was  ready  the  chief  priest  reverently  uttered 
prayer,  followed  by  another  priest,  who,  after  prayer, 
started  the  singing.  Three  or  four  of  the  older  priests 
were  seated  around  a  large  bowl  full  of  water  brought 
from  some  sacred  spring  many,  many  miles  away.  This 
water  was  blessed  by  smoking  and  breathing  upon  it 
and  presenting  it  successively  to  the  powers  of  the  six 
world  points,  north,  west,  south,  east,  up  and  down. 

At  a  given  signal  two  men  thrust  their  hands  into 
the  snake-containing  ollas,  and  drew  therefrom  one  or 


n6       THE    INDIANS    OF    THE 

two  writhing,  wriggling  reptiles.  These  they  handed 
to  the  priests  of  the  sacred  water.  All  this  time  the 
singing,  accompanied  by  the  shaking  of  the  rattles, 
continued.  As  the  snakes  were  dipped  again  and  again 
into  the  water,  the  force  of  the  singing  increased  until 
it  was  a  tornado  of  sound.  Suddenly  the  priests  who 
were  washing  the  snakes  withdrew  them  from  the 
water  and  threw  them  over  the  heads  of  the  sitting 
priests  upon  the  sand  of  the  sacred  altar  at  the  other 
end  of  the  room.  Simultaneously  with  the  throwing 
half  of  the  singing  priests  ceased  their  song  and  burst 
out  into  a  blood-curdling  yell,  "  Ow !  Ow!  Ow!  Ow! 
Ow  !  Ow !  "  which  is  the  Hopi  war-cry. 

Then,  in  a  moment,  all  was  quiet,  more  snakes  were 
brought  and  washed,  the  singing  and  rattling  begin- 
ning at  a  pianissimo  and  gradually  increasing  to  a 
quadruple  forte,  when  again  the  snakes  were  thrown 
upon  the  altar,  with  the  shrieking  voices  yelling  "  Ow ! 
Ow !  "  in  a  piercing  falsetto,  as  before.  The  effect  was 
simply  horrifying.  The  dimly  lighted  kiva,  the  solemn, 
monotonous  hum  of  the  priests,  the  splashing  of  the 
wriggling  reptiles  in  the  water,  the  serious  and  earnest 
countenances  of  the  participants,  the  throwing  of  the 
snakes,  and  the  wild  shrieks  fairly  raised  one's  hair,  made 
the  heart  stand  still,  stopped  the  action  of  the  brain, 
sent  cold  chills  down  one's  spinal  column,  and  made 
goose-flesh  of  the  whole  of  the  surface  of  one's  body. 

And  this  continued  until  fifty,  one  hundred,  and  even 
as  many  as  one  hundred  and  fifty  snakes  were  thus 
washed  and  thrown  upon  the  altar.  It  was  the  duty 
of  two  men  to  keep  the  snakes  upon  the  altar,  but  on 
a  small  area  less  than  four  feet  square  it  can  well  be 
imagined  the  task  was  no  easy  or  enviable  one.  Indeed, 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     117 

many  of  the  snakes  escaped  and  crawled  over  our  feet 
and  legs. 

As  soon  as  all  the  snakes  were  washed,  all  the  priests 
retired  except  those  whose  duty  it  was  to  guard  the 
snakes.  Then  it  was  that  I  dared  to  risk  taking  off 
the  cap  from  my  lens,  pointing  it  at  the  almost  quies- 
cent mass  of  snakes,  and  trust  to  good  luck  for  the 
result.  On  another  page  is  the  fruition  of  my  faith,  in 
the  first  photograph  ever  made  of  the  snakes  of  a  Hopi 
kiva  after  the  ceremony  of  washing. 

And  now  the  sunset  hour  draws  near.  This  is  to 
witness  the  close  of  the  nine  days'  ceremony.  It  is  to 
be  public,  for  the  Snake  Dance  itself  is  looked  upon  by 
all  the  people.  Long  before  the  hour  the  house-tops  are 
lined  with  Hopis,  Navahoes,  Paiutis,  cow-boys,  miners, 
Mormons,  preachers,  scientists,  and  military  men  from 
Fort  Wingate  and  other  Western  posts.  Here  is  a  dis- 
tinguished German  savant,  and  there  a  representative  of 
the  leading  scientific  society  of  France.  Yonder  is  Dr. 
Jesse  Walter  Fewkes,  the  eminent  specialist  of  the 
United  States  Bureau  of  Ethnology  and  the  foremost  au- 
thority of  the  world  on  the  Snake  Dance,  while  elbowing 
him  and  pumping  him  on  every  occasion  is  the  inquisi- 
tive representative  of  one  of  America's  leading  journals. 

See  yonder  group  of  interesting  maidens.  Some 
of  them  are  "  copper  Cleopatras  "  indeed,  and  would  be 
accounted  good-looking  anywhere.  Here  is  a  group 
of  laughing,  frolicking  youngsters  of  both  sexes,  half  of 
them  stark  naked,  and,  except  for  the  dirt  which  freely 
allies  itself  to  them,  perfect  little  "  fried  cupids,"  as 
they  have  not  inaptly  been  described.  Now,  working 
his  way  through  the  crowd  comes  a  United  States  Con- 
gressman, and  yonder  is  the  president  of  a  railroad. 


n8       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

Suddenly  a  murmur  of  approval  goes  up  on  every 
hand.  The  chief  priest  of  the  Antelopes  has  come  out 
of  the  kiva,  and  he  is  immediately  followed  by  all  the 
others ;  and,  as  soon  as  the  line  is  formed,  with  rever- 
ent mien  and  stately  step,  they  march  to  the  dance 
plaza.  Here  has  been  erected  a  cottonwood  bower 
called  the  "  kisi,"  in  the  base  of  which  ollas  have  been 
placed  containing  the  snakes.  In  front  of  this  kisi  is 
a  hole  covered  by  a  plank.  This  hole  represents  the 
entrance  to  the  underworld,  and  now  the  chief  priest 
advances  toward  it,  sprinkles  a  pinch  of  sacred  meal 
over  it,  then  vigorously  stamps  upon  it,  and  marches 
on.  The  whole  line  do  likewise.  Four  times  the 
priests  circle  before  the  kisi,  moving  always  from  right 
to  left,  and  stamping  upon  the  meal-sprinkled  board  as 
they  come  to  it.  This  is  to  awaken  the  attention  of  the 
gods  of  the  underworld  to  the  fact  that  the  dance  is 
about  to  begin. 

Now  the  Antelope  priests  line  up  either  alongside  or  in 
front  of  the  kisi  —  there  being  slight  and  unimportant 
variations  in  this  and  other  regards  at  the  different  vil- 
lages —  all  the  while  keeping  up  a  solemn  and  mo- 
notonous humming  song  or  prayer,  while  they  await  the 
coming  of  the  Snake  priests. 

At  length,  with  stately  stride  and  rapid  movement, 
the  Snake  men  come,  led  by  their  chief.  They  go 
through  the  same  ceremonies  of  sprinkling,  stamping, 
and  circling  that  the  Antelope  priests  did,  and  then  line 
up,  facing  the  kisi. 

The  two  lines  now  for  several  minutes  sing,  rattle, 
sway  their  bodies  to  and  fro  and  back  and  forth  in  a  most 
impressive  and  interesting  manner,  until,  at  a  given 
signal,  the  Snake  priests  break  up  their  line  and  divide 


* 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION      119 

into  groups  of  three.  The  first  group  advances  to  the 
kisi.  The  first  man  of  the  group  kneels  down  and 
receives  from  the  warrior  priest,  who  has  entered  the 
kisi,  a  writhing,  wriggling,  and,  perhaps,  dangerous  rep- 
tile. Without  a  moment's  hesitation  the  priest  breathes 
upon  it,  puts  it  between  his  teeth,  rises,  and  upon  his 
companion's  placing  one  arm  around  his  shoulders,  the 
two  begin  to  amble  and  prance  along,  followed  by  the 
third  member  of  their  group,  around  the  prescribed 
circuit.  With  a  peculiar  swaying  of  body,  a  rapid  and 
jerky  lifting  high  of  one  leg,  then  quickly  dropping  it  and 
raising  the  other,  the  "  carrier  "  and  his  "  hugger  "  pro- 
ceed about  three-fourths  of  the  circuit,  when  the  carrier 
drops  the  snake  from  his  mouth,  and  passes  on  to  take 
his  place  to  again  visit  the  kisi,  obtain  another  snake, 
and  repeat  the  performance.  But  now  comes  in  the 
duty  of  the  "gatherer,"  the  third  man  of  the  group. 
As  soon  as  the  snake  falls  to  the  ground,  it  naturally 
desires  to  escape.  With  a  pinch  of  sacred  meal  in  his 
fingers  and  his  snake  whip  in  his  hand,  the  gatherer 
rapidly  advances,  scatters  the  meal  over  the  snake, 
stoops,  and  like  a  flash  has  him  in  his  hands.  Some- 
times, however,  a  vicious  rattlesnake,  resenting  the 
rough  treatment,  coils  ready  to  strike.  Now  watch  the 
dexterous  handling  by  a  Hopi  of  a  venomous  creature 
aroused  to  anger.  With  a  "  dab "  of  meal,  the  snake 
whip  is  brought  into  play,  and  the  tickling  feathers 
gently  touch  the  angry  reptile.  As  soon  as  he  feels 
them,  he  uncoils  and  seeks  to  escape.  Now  is  the 
time!  Quicker  than  the  eye  can  follow,  the  expert 
"  gatherer "  seizes  the  escaping  creature,  and  that  ex- 
citement .is  ended,  only  to  allow  the  visitor  to  witness 
a  similar  scene  going  on  elsewhere  with  other  partici- 


120       THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 

pants.  In  the  meantime  all  the  snake  carriers  have 
received  their  snakes  and  are  perambulating  around 
as  did  the  first  one,  so  that,  until  all  the  snakes  are 
brought  into  use,  it  is  an  endless  chain,  composed  of 
"  carrier,"  snake,  "  hugger,"  and  "  gatherer."  Now  and 
again  a  snake  glides  away  toward  the  group  of  specta- 
tors, and  there  is  a  frantic  dash  to  get  away.  But  the 
gatherers  never  fail  to  stop  and  capture  their  particu- 
lar reptile.  As  the  dance  continues,  the  gatherers 
have  more  than  their  hands  full,  so,  to  ease  them- 
selves, they  hand  over  their  excited  and  wriggling 
victims  to  the  Antelope  priests,  who,  during  the  whole 
of  this  part  of  the  ceremony,  remain  in  line,  solemnly 
chanting. 

At  last  all  the  snakes  have  been  brought  from  the 
kisi.  The  chief  priest  steps  forth,  describes  a  circle  of 
sacred  meal  upon  the  ground,  and,  at  a  given  signal,  all 
the  priests,  Snake  and  Antelope  alike,  rush  up  to  it,  and 
throw  the  snakes  they  have  in  hands  or  mouths  into  the 
circle,  at  the  same  time  spitting  upon  them.  The 
whole  of  the  Hopi  spectators,  also,  no  matter  where  they 
may  be,  reverently  spit  toward  this  circle  where  now 
one  may  see  through  the  surrounding*  group  of  priests 
the  writhing,  wriggling,  hissing,  rattling  mass  of  revolt- 
ing reptiles.  Never  before  on  earth,  except  here,  was 
such  a  hideous  sight  witnessed.  But  one's  horror  is 
kept  in  abeyance  for  a  while  as  is  heard  the  prayer  of 
the  chief  priest  and  we  see  him  sprinkle  the  mass  with 
sacred  meal,  while  the  asperger  does  the  same  thing 
from  the  sacred  water  bowl. 

Then  another  signal  is  given !  Curious  spectator, 
carried  away  by  your  interest,  beware !  Look  out ! 
In  a  moment,  the  Snake  priests  dart  down,  "  grab  "  at 


PAINTED   DESERT   REGION     121 

the  pile  of  intertwined  snakes,  get  all  they  can  in  each 
hand,  and  then,  regardless  of  your  dread,  thrust  the 
snakes  into  the  faces  of  all  who  stand  in  their  way,  and 
like  pursued  deer  dart  down  the  steep  and  precipitous 
trails  into  the  appointed  places  of  the  valley  beneath. 
Here  let  us  watch  them  from  the  edge  of  the  mesa. 
Reverently  depositing  them,  they  kneel  and  pray  over 
them  and  then  return  to  the  mesa  as  hastily  as  they 
descended,  divesting  themselves  of  their  dance  para- 
phernalia as  they  return. 

Now  occurs  one  of  the  strangest  portions  of  the 
whole  ceremony.  The  Antelope  priests  have  already 
returned,  with  due  decorum,  to  their  kiva.  One  by  one 
the  Snake  men  arrive  at  theirs,  sweating  and  breathless 
from  their  run  up  the  steep  trails.  When  all  have  re- 
turned, they  step  to  the  top  of  their  kiva,  or,  as  at 
Walpi,  to  the  western  edge  of  the  mesa,  and  there  drink 
a  large  quantity  of  an  emetic  that  has  been  especially 
prepared  for  the  purpose.  Then,  O  ye  gods !  gaze  on 
if  ye  dare !  The  whole  of  them  may  be  seen  bend- 
ing over,  solemnly  and  in  most  dignified  manner,  puk- 
ing forth  the  horrible  decoction  they  have  just  poured 
down.  This  is  a  ceremony  of  internal  purification 
corresponding  to  the  ceremonial  washing  of  themselves 
and  the  snakes  before  described.  This  astounding 
spectacle  ends  as  the  priests  disappear  into  their  kiva, 
where  they  restore  their  stomachs  to  a  more  normal 
condition  by  feasting  on  the  piki,  pikami,  and  other 
delicacies  the  women  now  bring  to  them  in  great  quan- 
tities. Then  for  two  days  frolic  and  feasting  are  indulged 
in,  and  the  Snake  Dance  in  that  village  at  least  is  now 
over,  to  be  repeated  two  years  hence. 

What  is  the  significance,  the  real  meaning  of  the  Snake 


122       THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 

Dance?  It  is  not,  as  is  generally  supposed,  an  act  of 
snake  worship.  Here  I  can  do  no  more  than  give  the 
barest  suggestion  as  to  what  modern  science  has  con- 
cluded. It  is  mainly  a  prayer  for  rain  in  which  acts  of 
sun  worship  are  introduced.  The  propitiation  of  the 
Spider  Woman  at  her  shrine  by  the  offerings  of  prayers 
and  bahos  by  the  chief  Antelope  priest  demonstrates  a 
desire  for  rain.  She  is  asked  to  weave  the  clouds,  for 
without  them  no  rain  can  descend.  The  lightning  sym- 
bol of  the  Antelope  priests ;  the  shaking  of  their  rattles, 
which  sounds  like  the  falling  rain ;  the  use  of  the  whizzer 
to  produce  the  sounds  of  the  coming  storm,  —  these  and 
other  similar  things  show  the  intimate  association  of  the 
dance  with  rain  and  its  making. 

Allied  to  rain  are  the  fructifying  processes  of  the  earth ; 
and  as  corn  is  their  chief  article  of  food,  and  its  germina- 
tion, growth,  and  maturity  depend  upon  the  rainfall,  the 
use  of  corn-meal  and  prayers  for  the  growth  of  corn 
have  come  to  have  an  important  place  in  the  ceremony. 

The  use  of  the  snakes  is  for.  a  double  purpose.  In 
celebrating  this  ceremony  it  is  the  desire  of  the  Snake 
clan  to  reproduce  the  original  conditions  of  its  perform- 
ance as  near  as  possible,  in  order  to  gain  all  the  efficacy 
they  desire  for  their  petitions.  In  the  original  perform- 
ance the  prayers  of  the  Snake  Mother  were  the  potent 
ones.  Hence  the  snakes  must  now  be  introduced  to 
make  potent  prayers. 

The  other  idea  is  that  the  snakes  act  as  intermedia- 
ries to  convey  to  the  Snake  Mother  in  the  underworld 
the  prayers  for  rain  and  corn  growth  that  her  children 
on  the  earth  have  uttered. 

In  considering  the  ceremony  of  the  public  dance  cer- 
tain questions  naturally  arise.  Are  the  Hopis  ever 


PAINTED   DESERT   REGION      123 

bitten  by  the  venomous  snakes,  and,  if  so,  what  are  the 
consequences  ?  And  what  is  the  secret  of  their  power 
in  handling  these  dangerous  reptiles  with  such  startling 
freedom  ? 

There  are  times  when  the  priests  are  bitten,  but,  as 
was  suggested  in  the  snake  legend,  they  have  a  snake 
venom  charm  liquid.  This  is  prepared  by  the  chief 
woman  of  the  Snake  clan,  and  she  and  the  Snake  priest 
alone  are  supposed  to  know  the  secret  of  its  composi- 
tion. It  may  be  that  ere  long  this  secret  will  be  given 
to  the  world  by  a  gentleman  who  is  largely  in  the  con- 
fidence of  the  Hopis,  but,  as  yet,  it  is  practically  unknown. 
That  it  is  an  antidote  there  can  be  no  question.  I  have 
seen  men  seriously  bitten  by  rattlesnakes,  and  in  each 
case,  after  the  use  of  the  antidote,  the  wounded  priests 
suffered  but  slightly. 

As  to  the  "  why  "  of  the  handling  of  the  snakes.  The 
"  fact "  it  is  easy  to  state ;  but  when  one  enters  the  realm 
of  theory  to  explain  the  "  why "  of  the  fact,  he  places 
himself  as  a  target  for  others  to  shoot  at.  My  theory, 
however,  is  that  a  fear  within  yourself  arouses  a  corre- 
sponding fear  within  the  reptile.  As  soon  as  he  feels 
fear  he  prepares  to  use  the  weapons  of  offence  and 
defence  with  which  nature  has  provided  him. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  you  feel  no  fear,  and,  in  touch- 
ing the  creature,  do  not  hurt  him  so  as  to  arouse  his  fear, 
he  may  be  handled  with  impunity. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  the  fact  remains  —  for  I  have 
examined  the  snakes  before,  during,  and  after  the  cere- 
mony—  that  dangerous  and  untampered  with  rattle- 
snakes are  used  by  the  Hopis  in  this,  their  prayer  to 
"Those  Above"  for  rain. 


124       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE   NAVAHO   AND   HIS   HISTORY 

MISUNDERSTOOD,  maligned,  abused,  despised, 
the  Navaho  has  never  stood  high  in  the  estima- 
tion of  those  whites  who  did  not  know  him.  Yet  he 
is  industrious,  moral,  honest,  trustworthy,  fairly  truthful, 
religious,  and  good  to  his  wife  and  children.  Not  a 
weak  list  of  virtues,  even  though  one  has  to  detract 
from  it  by  accusing  him  of  ingratitude.  There  are  noble 
exceptions,  of  course,  to  this  charge,  but  from  what  I 
know  and  have  seen,  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  many, 
if  not  most,  Navahoes  have  no  sense  of  moral  responsi- 
bility for  favors  and  benefits  received. 

Though,  perhaps,  not  as  interesting  to  study  as  the 
Hopis,  there  is  still  a  wonderful  field  open  for  the  student 
who  is  willing  to  go  and  live  with  the  Navaho,  learn  his 
language,  gain  his  confidence,  participate  in  all  his  cere- 
monies, and  enter  into  his  social  and  domestic  life. 

No  one  has  done  this  as  much  as  Dr.  Washington 
Matthews,  whose  "  Navaho  Legends  "  is  a  revelation  to 
those  people  who  have  hitherto  held  the  general  ideas 
(propagated,  too,  by  a  scientific  observer)  so  prevalent 
about  this  long-suffering  people. 

That  the  Navaho  was  reserved  with  the  white  man  in 
the  early  days  of  American  occupancy  there  can  be  no 
doubt,  and  the  difficulty  experienced  in  penetrating  that 
reserve  is  well  exemplified  by  reference  to  the  letter  of 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION      125 

Dr.  Joseph  Letherman,  who  lived  for  three  years  among 
the  tribe  at  Fort  Defiance.  Aided  by  Major  Kendrick, 
who  had  long  commanded  at  this  post,  he  wrote  a  letter 
which  appears  in  the  Smithsonian  Report  for  1855.  In 
this  he  says,  among  many  good  things :  "  Nothing  can 
be  learned  of  the  origin  of  these  people  from  themselves. 
At  one  time  they  say  they  came  out  of  the  ground ;  and 
at  another,  that  they  know  nothing  whatever  of  their 
origin ;  the  latter,  no  doubt,  being  the  truth."  Again : 
"  Of  their  religion  little  or  nothing  is  known,  as,  indeed, 
all  inquiries  tend  to  show  that  they  have  none ;  and  even 
have  not,  we  are  informed,  any  word  to  express  the 
idea  of  a  Supreme  Being.  We  have  not  been  able  to 
learn  that  any  observances  of  a  religious  character  exist 
among  them ;  and  the  general  impression  of  those  who 
have  the  means  of  knowing  them  is,  that,  in  this  respect, 
they  are  steeped  in  the  deepest  degradation."  Once 
more :  "  They  have  frequent  gatherings  for  dancing." 
And  a  little  further  on :  "  Their  singing  is  but  a  succes- 
sion of  grunts,  and  is  anything  but  agreeable." 

One  has  but  to  read  what  Dr.  Matthews  has  written 
and  gathered  from  the  Navahoes  to  see  how  misleading 
and  erroneous  the  conclusions  of  Dr.  Letherman  were. 
To  quote :  "  He  [Dr.  Matthews]  had  not  been  many 
weeks  in  New  Mexico  when  he  discovered  that  the 
dances  to  which  the  doctor  refers  were  religious  cere- 
monials, and  later  he  found  that  these  ceremonials 
might  vie  in  allegory,  symbolism,  and  intricacy  of 
ritual  with  the  ceremonies  of  any  people,  ancient  or 
modern.  He  found,  ere  long,  that  these  heathens,  pro- 
nounced godless  and  legendless,  possessed  lengthy 
myths  and  traditions  —  so  numerous  that  one  can  never 
hope  to  collect  them  all,  a  pantheon  as  well  stocked 


126       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

with  gods  and  heroes  as  that  of  the  ancient  Greeks, 
and  prayers  which,  for  length  and  vain  repetition,  might 
put  a  Pharisee  to  blush." 

Wonderful  songs  also  were  found,  full  of  poetic 
imagery,  and  suitable  for  every  conceivable  occasion, 
songs  that  have  been  handed  down  for  generations. 
Of  the  sacred  songs  Dr.  Matthews  makes  the  astound- 
ing statement  that,  "  sometimes,  pertaining  to  a  single 
rite,  there  are  two  hundred  songs  or  more  which  may 
not  be  sung  at  other  rites."  Further:  "The  songs 
must  be  known  to  the  priest  of  the  rite  and  his  assistants 
in  a  most  exact  manner,  for  an  error  made  in  singing 
a  song  may  be  fatal  to  the  efficacy  of  a  ceremony.  In 
no  case  is  an  important  mistake  tolerated,  and  in  some 
cases  the  error  of  a  single  syllable  works  an  irreparable 
injury." 

Popular  conceptions  of  the  Navaho  are  very  crude 
and  inaccurate.  They  are  largely  the  result  of  two 
"  floods  of  information  "  which  deluged  the  country  at 
two  epochs  in  their  history,  and  neither  of  them  had 
much  truth  in  the  flood.  The  first  of  these  epochs 
was  at  the  discovery  of  the  important  cliff  dwellings 
located  on  their  reservation,  —  those  of  the  Tsegi 
Canyon  (the  so-called  Canyon  de  Chelly),  Monument 
Canyon,  Chaco  Canyon,  etc.  Writers  who  visited  the 
region  wrote  the  most  wild  and  outrageously  conceived 
nonsense  about  this  people  and  the  dwellings  they  were 
supposed  to  look  upon  with  superstitious  veneration. 
Then  later,  a  lot  of  unscrupulous  whites,  fired  with 
similar  zeal  to  that  which  led  the  old  conquistadors 
across  the  deserts  of  northern  Mexico  and  through 
the  inhospitable  wilds  of  Arizona  and  New  Mexico,  — 
the  zeal  for  gold  or  silver,  —  which  was  doubtless  fed  by 


PQ    ^ 

1 1 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     127 

the  fact  that  the  Navahoes  did  possess  thousands  of 
dollars'  worth  of  silver  ornaments,  started  out  to  pro- 
spect the  interior  recesses  of  the  Navaho  reservation. 
Knowing  by  painful  experience  what  this  meant,  —  for 
their  "white  brothers  "  had  stolen  their  springs  and  arable 
land  from  them  on  the  Moenkopi,  on  the  Little  Colorado, 
at  Willow  Spring,  and  a  score  of  other  places,  —  the 
warlike  and  courageous  Navahoes  resented  the  presence 
of  these  men.  They  begged  them  to  retire,  and  when 
the  white  men  refused,  fought  and  whipped  them.  This 
naturally  excited  the  cupidity  of  the  silver  hunters  more 
than  ever.  "Why  should  the  blanked  Indians  fight 
if  not  to  protect  their  silver  mines  ? "  —  this  was  the 
kind  of  question  asked,  and  the  natural  and  legitimate 
resentment  of  the  Navahoes  was  described  all  over  the 
country  as  "  another  Indian  uprising,"  and  led  to  the 
second  "  flood  of  knowledge,"  which  the  newspapers 
always  have  forthcoming  when  public  interest  and 
curiosity  are  aroused. 

Hence  the  truth  often  comes  as  a  wet  blanket  to  the 
preconceived  notions  of  those  who  have  drank  deep 
from  these  earlier  streams  of  information ! 

Science  and  legend  both  agree  in  giving  to  the 
Navaho  a  mixed  origin.  His  is  not  a  pure-blooded 
race.  Their  myths  or  legends  refer  to  many  assimila- 
tions of  other  people,  strangers  from  the  North,  South, 
East,  West,  and  everywhere,  all  of  whom  were  welcomed 
and  made  an  integral  part  of  the  nation.  Hence  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  a  distinctly  Navaho  type,  or,  as 
Hrdlicka  puts  it,  "  they  show  considerable  difference 
in  color  and  measurement,  and  cannot  be  considered  a 
radically  homogeneous  people,  but  their  mixture  is 
not  recent."  This  latter  statement  is  doubtless  true, 


128       THE   INDIANS  OF  THE 

as  they  would  probably  become  more  clannish  as  their 
nation  grew  in  numbers  and  power. 

Dr.  Matthews  gives  the  stories  of  the  origin  of  several 
of  the  gentes.  One  story  which  he  does  not  relate  was 
told  to  me  at  Tohatchi,  and  serves  to  illustrate  how  a 
migration  from  the  Northwest  is  transformed  into  a 
supernatural  occurrence.  Though  told  to  me  of  the 
Navahoes  as  a  whole,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  it 
applies  only  to  a  single  gens.  The  story  was  in  regard 
to  Winged  Rock,  commonly  called  by  the  whites 
"  Ship  Rock,"  and  about  which  I  had  been  seeking 
information. 

This  rock  is  situated  in  the  Navaho  reservation,  about 
one  hundred  miles  northwest  of  Tohatchi,  and  some 
fifteen  or  twenty  miles  from  Carrizo  Mountain.  It  is 
difficult  of  access,  and  my  informant  assured  me  that 
even  though  an  army  of  white  men  should  reach  its 
base  they  could  never  scale  its  steep  sides  and  reach  its 
top.  All  the  Navaho  tribe  reverence  it  sincerely  and 
all  watch  and  guard  it  jealously.  He  would  indeed  be 
a  brave  white  man  who  would  dare  the  anger  of  these 
warlike  and  brave  natives  if  they  forbade  his  approach 
and  would  attempt  to  scale  this  sacred  Winged  Rock. 

This  was  the  legend :  "  Many,  many  years  ago,  when 
this  country  was  young  and  the  sun  cast  only  small 
shadows,  my  people  came  across  the  narrow  sea  far 
away  near  the  setting  sun  in  the  north  and  landed  on  the 
shores  of  this  country.  The  people  where  they  landed 
were  exceedingly  angry  at  them,  and  whenever  they 
could  they  fell  upon  them  and  slew  them.  My  people 
did  not  want  to  go  to  war,  but  this  inhospitable  recep- 
tion made  them  angry,  so  they  put  themselves  in  war 
array  and  fell  upon  their  foes.  But  there  were  few 


PAINTED   DESERT   REGION    129 

only  of  my  people,  and  their  enemies  were  so  many 
that  it  was  not  long  before  they  were  in  sad  straits. 
Indeed,  they  would  soon  have  been  entirely  destroyed 
had  not  help  come.  In  their  distress  they  called  on 
Those  Above,  and  soon  a  messenger  from  the  sky  came 
to  my  people  and  said :  '  See  you  yonder  stone  moun- 
tain? Flee  to  it.  It  will  be  your  salvation.  Climb 
up  its  steep,  strong,  rugged  sides  and  it  will  carry  you 
toward  the  land  of  the  South  sea,  nearer  to  the  rising 
sun,  and  there  your  home  shall  be.' 

"  My  people  were  only  too  glad  to  obey  the  message. 
They  hastened  towards  the  mountain.  Some  who  were 
weak  were  enabled  to  fly  towards  it  like  birds,  and  they 
clung  to  its  steep  sides  and  clambered  to  its  top. 

"  Then  when  they  were  all  safe  on  its  huge  bulk,  the 
monster  rock  was  taken  by  Those  Above,  and  it  arose 
and  floated  across  the  rivers  and  plains  and  mountains 
and  lakes  and  canyons.  Several  days  and  nights  it 
floated,  and  my  people  gazed  with  wonder  upon  the 
strange  and  wonderful  countries  through  which  they 
travelled.  Sometimes  they  thought  they  would  like  to 
stay  in  this  place  or  in  that,  but  the  wisdom  of  Those 
Above  said  No  !  and  the  rock  floated  on.  Oh !  it  was  a 
glorious  sail.  Never  before  or  since  has  any  people 
been  so  blessed  and  favored  by  the  People  of  the 
Shadows  Above. 

"  Finally  the  Winged  Rock  crossed  the  great  deep 
canyon  of  the  Colorado  River,  and  my  people  were 
afraid  of  its  vast  depths.  Then  the  rock  gently  settled 
down  to  the  earth,  where  it  is  now  found,  and  our  home 
was  reached.  It  did  not  seem  to  be  a  very  beautiful 
land,  but  it  was  given  to  us  by  Those  Above,  and  my 
people  soon  became  content.  We  were  shown  the 

9 


130       THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 

springs  and  the  watercourses,  and  we  found  the  moun- 
tains covered  with  trees,  and  the  rivers  and  creeks.  So 
that  when  any  one  speaks  of  our  leaving  our  country  we 
are  afraid  and  we  cry :  '  No,  why  should  we  leave  this 
land  given  to  us,  and  which  we  love?  Yonder  is  the 
rock  on  which  we  came,  and  never  until  that  rock  floats 
away  with  us  shall  we  leave  the  land  that  we  love  so 
well ! ' 

"  As  soon  as  we  were  settled  here,  Those  Above  gave 
us  some  great  shamans,  and  one  of  them  told  us  that 
we  must  always  do  right,  for  the  sun,  when  it  rises, 
would  watch  our  every  action  all  throughout  the  day, 
and  when  he  went  away  at  night  it  was  to  tell  Those 
Above  all  our  evil  actions,  for  which  we  should  be 
punished." 

While  the  Apaches  and  Navahoes  are  of  the  same 
stock,  there  have  always  been  marked  differences  be- 
tween them  so  long  as  they  have  been  under  the  obser- 
vation of  the  white  men.  When  the  Spaniards  entered 
the  country,  the  Navahoes  were  more  distinctly  an 
agricultural  people  than  the  Apaches.  They  had  large 
patches  of  land  under  cultivation,  kept  their  crops  and 
lived  in  houses  underground.  Cultivated  lands  neces- 
sitated settled  residences,  and  after  the  Spaniards  in- 
troduced sheep,  it  was  not  long  before  the  Navahoes 
were  extensive  sheep  raisers.  It  would  not  be  any  wiser 
or  more  profitable  to  enter  into  an  inquiry  as  to  the 
methods  by  which  these  flocks  were  acquired  than  it 
would  be  to  ascertain  the  history  of  many  of  the  landed 
possessions  of  European  nobilities.  With  the  Navaho, 
possession  was  the  only  law  he  cared  anything  for.  "  To 
have  and  to  hold  "  was  his  motto ;  and  once  "  having," 
he  held  pretty  securely.  Hence  the  sheep  possessions 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     131 

of  the  neighboring  pueblo  Indians  were  held  by  exceed- 
ingly precarious  tenure. 

And  here  we  have,  I  believe,  one  of  the  additional 
sources  of  enmity  between  the  Navaho  and  the  Spaniard. 
As  their  wards,  the  Spanish  were  in  duty  bound  to 
care  for  and  protect  the  Pueblos.  Thus  Navaho  and 
Spaniard  were  ever  at  war,  and  when  the  Mexican 
came  in  the  Spaniard's  stead  the%  battle  still  continued 
on  the  same  lines  and  with  the  same  ferocity. 

It  was  on  the  22d  of  January  in  1849  that  Lieut. 
J.  H.  Simpson,  afterwards  General,  started  on  that 
interesting  trip  of  his  through  the  Navaho  country, 
which  has  forever  connected  his  name  with  these 
nomads.  He  was  not  in  command  of  the  expedition, 
its  head  being  Col.  John  M.  Washington,  who  was 
military  and  civil  governor  of  New  Mexico  at  the  time. 
The  object  of  the  expedition  was  to  coerce  the  Navahoes 
into  a  compliance  with  a  treaty  which  they  had  made 
with  the  United  States,  two  years  previously,  and  to 
extend  the  provisions  of  the  treaty. 

When  they  reached  the  Chaco  Canyon  trouble  ri- 
pened between  the  soldiers  and  the  Navahoes,  and  the 
latter  were  fired  upon,  with  the  result  that  seven  were 
killed,  including  Narbona,  their  great  warrior  and  chief. 

This  was  but  one  of  many  such  attacks  upon  the  whites. 
Then  as  now,  only  far  more  so,  the  Navahoes  resented 
the  intrusion  of  white  people  in  their  territory ;  and  hav- 
ing gained  fire-arms,  they  used  them  to  deadly  purpose 
upon  those  who  slighted  their  will. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  the  Navahoes  were  a  source 
of  great  terror  to  the  Mexicans  who  first  settled  in  and 
near  their  territory.  Even  after  the  United  States  be- 
came their  guardians  at  the  acquisition  of  New  Mexico 


1 32       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

in  1847,  tney  were  very  hostile,  murders,  robberies,  and 
depredations  of  every  kind  being  quite  common.  In 
1855,  Dr.  Letherman  reported  that  "the  nation,  as  a 
nation,  is  fully  imbued  with  the  idea  that  it  is  all  power- 
ful, which,  no  doubt,  has  arisen  from  the  fact  of  its 
having  been  for  years  a  terror  and  a  dread  to  the  in- 
habitants of  New  Mexico."  But  that  these  depreda- 
tions were  not  perpetrated  upon  the  whites  alone  is 
evident  from  the  fact  that  one  of  the  richest  men  of  the 
Navahoes  himself  applied  to  Major  Kendrick,  then  the 
commanding  officer  of  Fort  Defiance,  N.  Mex.,  to  pro- 
tect his  cattle,  as  he  could  not  otherwise  prevent  his 
own  people  from  stealing  them. 

The  insolence  from  years  of  this  kind  of  free  life 
needed  forceful  check,  but  it  was  not  until  1862  that 
the  unbearable  conduct  of  the  Navahoes  brought  upon 
themselves  this  long-needed  chastisement. 

According  to  governmental  reports,  the  Indians  ©f 
New  Mexico  (among  whom  were  the  Navahoes  and 
Mescalero  Apaches)  caused  losses  between  1860  and 
1863  to  the  people  of  that  territory  of  "not  less  than 
500,000  sheep,  and  5,000  horses,  mules,  and  cattle. 
Over  200  lives  have  been  also  sacrificed  of  citizens, 
soldiers,  and  shepherds."  It  was  also  stated  in  1863 
"  that  the  military  establishment  of  this  territory  [New 
Mexico,  which  then  included  Arizona],  since  its  acquisi- 
tion, has  cost  not  less  than  $3,000,000  annually,  inde- 
pendent of  land-warrant  bounties."  And  while  this  was 
for  a  conquered  country,  the  whole  expenditure  was 
for  the  chastisement  of  hostile  Indians,  every  tribe  of 
which  in  turn  came  in  for  its  share  of  the  fighting. 

It  was  openly  advocated  about  this  time  that  the 
policy  of  extermination  was  the  only  one  that  could  be 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     133 

followed,  and  this  must  be  brought  about  either  by 
actual  warfare,  or  by  driving  the  hostiles  into  the  moun- 
tains and  there  starving  them  to  death. 

Brig.-Gen.  J.  H.  Carleton,  who  was  in  control  of 
the  department  of  New  Mexico,  determined  upon  a 
thorough  and  complete  change  in  our  treatment  of 
this  haughty  and  proud  people.  They  had  made  six 
treaties  at  different  times  with  officers  of  our  Govern- 
ment and  had  violated  them  before  they  could  be  rati- 
fied at  Washington.  He  strongly  counselled  drastic 
measures  in  a  letter  which  is  historically  of  sufficient 
interest  to  justify  a  large  quotation  from  it:  — 

"  At  the  Bosque  Redondo  there  is  arable  land  enough  for  all 
the  Indians  of  this  family  [the  Navahoes  and  Apaches  have 
descended  from  the  same  stock  and  speak  the  same  language], 
and  I  would  respectfully  recommend  that  now  the  war  be 
vigorously  prosecuted  against  the  Navahoes;  that  the  only 
peace  that  can  ever  be  made  with  them  must  rest  on  the  basis 
that  they  move  on  to  these  lands,  and,  like  the  Pueblos,  be- 
come an  agricultural  people,  and  cease  to  be  nomads.  This 
should  be  a  sine  qua  non  ;  as  soon  as  the  snows  of  winter  ad- 
monish them  of  the  sufferings  to  which  their  families  will  be 
exposed,  I  have  great  hopes  of  getting  most  of  the  tribe.  The 
knowledge  of  the  perfidy  of  these  Navahoes,  gained  after  two 
centuries  of  experience,  is  such  as  to  lead  us  to  put  no  faith  in 
their  promises.  They  have  no  government  to  make  treaties  ; 
they  are  a  patriarchal  people.  One  set  of  families  may  make 
promises,  but  the  other  set  will  not  heed  them.  They  under- 
stand the  direct  application  of  force  as  a  law ;  if  its  application 
be  removed,  that  moment  they  become  lawless.  This  has 
been  tried  over  and  over  again,  and  at  great  expense.  The 
purpose  now  is,  never  to  relax  the  application  of  force  with  a 
people  that  can  no  more  be  trusted  than  the  wolves  that  run 
through  the  mountains.  To  collect  them  together,  little  by 


i34       THE    INDIANS   OF  THE 

little,  on  to  a  reservation,  away  from  the  haunts  and  hills  and 
hiding-places  of  their  country ;  there  be  kind  to  them ;  there 
teach  their  children  how  to  read  and  write ;  teach  them  the 
arts  of  peace,  teach  them  the  truths  of  Christianity.  Soon  they 
will  acquire  new  habits,  new  ideas,  and  new  modes  of  life ;  and 
the  old  Indians  will  die  off,  and  carry  with  them  all  latent  long- 
ings for  murdering  and  robbing.  The  young  ones  will  take 
their  places  without  these  longings,  and  thus,  little  by  little, 
they  will  become  a  happy  and  contented  people  ;  and  Navaho 
wars  will  be  remembered  only  as  something  that  belong  en- 
tirely to  the  past.  Even  until  they  can  raise  enough  to  be  self- 
sustaining,  you  can  feed  them  cheaper  than  fight  them.  .  .  . 

"  I  know  these  ideas  are  practical  and  humane  —  are  just  to 
the  suffering  people,  as  well  as  to  the  aggressive,  perfidious, 
butchering  Navahoes.  If  I  can  have  one  more  full  regiment 
of  cavalry,  and  authority  to  raise  one  independent  company  in 
each  county  of  the  Territory,  they  can  soon  be  carried  to  a 
final  result" 

In  1863  General  Carleton's  suggestions  in  the  main 
were  approved  by  the  Indian  Department  and  he  pro- 
ceeded to  carry  out  his  plan. 

Col.  Kit  Carson,  the  noted  scout,  with  an  adequate 
force  was  sent  out  to  humble  and  punish  the  Navahoes. 
It  was  wise  that  such  a  just,  humane,  and  wise  Indian 
fighter  was  sent  to  do  this  work.  His  knowledge  of 
their  characters  stood  him  in  good  purpose,  and  in  a 
very  short  time  over  seven  thousand  prisoners  were 
taken.  Later  this  number  was  increased,  until  they 
amounted  to  about  ten  or  eleven  thousand. 

At  the  same  time  the  Apaches  were  being  cornered, 
and  a  number  of  them  were  removed  to  Fort  Stanton, 
on  the  Peeos  River,  far  enough  down  into  the  open 
country  to  prevent  easy  escape  to  the  mountains.  Part 
of  this  settlement  was  the  Bosque  Redondo,  and  General 


HOPI  CEREMONIAL  HEAD-DRESSES. 

In  the  collection  of  George   JVharton  jfames. 


HOPI  BAHOS  AND  DANCE  RATTLES. 

In  the  collection  of  George   Wharton  James. 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     135 

Carleton's  plan  contemplated  the  settlement  of  both 
Apaches  and  Navahoes  here. 

Compelled  by  a  superior  force,  the  now  humbled 
Navahoes  were  herded  together  like  sheep  and  in  1863 
were  removed  to  the  chosen  place.  It  was  soon  found, 
however,  that  this  was  an  inhospitable  region,  altogether 
unfitted  to  be  the  home  of  so  large  a  population.  The 
water  was  alkaline,  and  the  soil  not  of  a  nature  suitable 
to  the  raising  of  corn.  There  was  practically  no  fuel, 
and  the  Navahoes  had  to  dig  up  mesquite  roots  and 
carry  them  on  their  backs  twelve  miles  for  this  purpose. 
In  two  or  three  years  more  than  one-fourth  of  their 
number  died  and  the  remainder  grew  more  and  more 
dissatisfied  with  the  location. 

In  1867,  however,  Manuelito  and  Barboncita,  two  of 
the  war  chiefs,  came  into  the  reservation,  both  of  them 
having  surrendered  to  the  commandant  at  Fort  Wingate. 
The  former  had  refused  to  come  into  the  reservation 
in  1863,  and  the  latter  ran  away  from  it,  with  his  band  of 
warriors,  in  1864.  These  two  bands  added  780  more 
of  men,  women,  and  children  to  the  population,  which, 
in  June,  1867,  was  reported  to  be  7,300. 

This  whole  Bosque  Redondo  was  a  disgraceful  busi- 
ness, on  a  line  with  so  much  of  the  wretched  and  abom- 
inable treatment  the  Indians  have  received  at  our  hands. 
Think  of  placing  ten  thousand  Indians  upon  a  reservation 
where  there  was  no  water  but  black,  brackish  stuff  not 
fit  for  cattle,  no  fuel,  and  no  soil  for  cultivation  of  the 
chief  article  of  their  diet.  Deprived  of  food,  water,  and 
fuel,  what  would  white  men  be  ?  No  wonder  the  Nava- 
hoes rebelled  and  were  kept  in  order  only  by  brute  force. 

At  length  those  in  authority  saw  the  iniquity  of  the 
proceeding  and  the  order  was  given  to  return  them  to 


136       THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 

their  reservation.  This  was  done,  but  with  a  loss  by 
death,  mainly  through  preventable  causes,  of  over  three 
thousand  souls. 

Since  this  time  they  have  been  industrious  and  pro- 
gressive. The  Bosque  lesson,  though  severe,  was  needed, 
and  it  proved  salutary.  One  .can  travel  with  perfect 
safety  unarmed  across  the  Navaho  reservation,  as  I  have 
done  several  times;  and  a  lady  friend,  unarmed,  and 
unaccompanied  by  any  other  escort  than  a  Navaho,  has 
travelled  hundreds  of  miles  in  perfect  safety  among  the 
Navahoes  in  all  parts  of  their  reservation.1 

In  September,  1870,  a  number  of  dissatisfied  Utes 
visited  the  Navahoes  at  the  so-called  *'  Navaho  Church," 
which  can  be  seen  on  the  right  on  the  line  of  the  Santa 
Fe  Railway,  going  to  California.  All  the  principal 
chiefs  of  the  tribe  were  present  and  the  causes  of  dis- 
satisfaction against  the  whites  were  fully  discussed. 
The  powwow  was  an  important  one,  and  lasted  several 
days,  but  the  chief  purpose  of  the  Utes  —  to  incite  the 
Navahoes  to  warfare  against  the  whites  —  was  not  suc- 
cessful. The  crafty  Utes,  with  stirring  eloquence,  said 
they  had  heard  the  white  men  saying  they  were  going  to 
take  possession  of  the  whole  country,  and  that  when 
they  did  they  would  kill  off  all  the  chief  men  of  the 
Navahoes.  "  See  how  they  have  stolen  in  upon  your 
territory  and  taken  the  springs  and  land  that  you  have 
had  all  the  time  up  till  now!  They  have  taken  the 
water  and  land  at  Wingate  and  at  Defiance,  and  soon 


1  Since  writing  the  above,  however,  a  sad  event  has  transpired  which 
leads  me  to  modify  my  statement.  A  young  lady  missionary,  riding 
alone,  was  criminally  assaulted  by  a  Navaho,  and  almost  brought  to 
death's  door.  When  I  heard  of  it  Navahoes  were  hunting  for  the  cul- 
prit. It  is  to  be  hoped  he  will  be  found  and  severely  punished. 


"PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     137 

they  will  take  all  you  have,  and  you  and  your  children 
will  perish  because  you  have  no  water,  no  grass  for  your 
horses  and  sheep,  and  no  corn  for  food.  Join  in  with 
us  and  drive  these  hated  people  away.  Get  all  the  guns 
and  ammunition  you  can,  and  prepare  many  new  bows 
and  arrows.  Let  us  sing  the  war  songs  together,  and  go 
on  the  war-path  and  hunt  down  and  kill  the  whites 
as  the  Pueblos  hunt  down  and  kill  rabbits.  Then  we 
will  be  friends.  You  will  have  your  country  to  your- 
selves, and  Those  Above  will  make  of  you  a  great  nation. 
We  shall  have  our  country  and  we  shall  become  great. 
Now  we  are  dwindling  down ;  we  are  melting  away  as 
the  snows  on  the  hillside.  United  against  the  whites 
we  shall  both  become  stronger,  and  grow  like  the  well- 
watered  corn." 

The  Navahoes  refused  to  give  answer  until  they  had 
consulted  among  themselves,  and  then  one  of  their  chiefs 
reported  their  decision  as  follows :  "  We  have  heard 
what  our  Ute  brothers  have  said.  If  our  white  brothers 
want  to  kill  us  they  can  do  so.  They  have  had  plenty 
of  chances  and  we  are  yet  alive.  All  of  our  people  who 
have  been  slain  have  been  those  who  have  gone  on  the 
war-path  against  them  in  the  past.  We  do  not  wish  to 
die,  so  we  will  not  go  on  the  war-path.  We  will  stay 
at  home.  We  have  food.  The  whites  treat  us  well.  If 
our  Ute  brothers  must  fight  we  will  not  interfere,  but 
we  ourselves  do  not  wish  to  fight." 

The  result  was  that  the  Ute  bands  returned  to  their 
homes  without  any  specific  act  of  warfare  at  that  time. 


138       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 


CHAPTER  IX 
THE   NAVAHO  AT  HOME 

THE  Navaho  reservation,  embracing  nearly  four 
million  acres,  or  eleven  thousand  square  miles,  was 
established  by  treaty  with  the  Navahoes  of  June  i,  1868, 
and  has  been  modified  or  enlarged  by  subsequent  execu- 
tive orders  of  October  29,  1878,  January  6,  1880,  May 
17,  1884,  April  24,  1886,  November  19,  1892,  and  Janu- 
ary 6, 1900.  The  major  portion  is  in  Arizona,  but  about 
six  hundred  and  fifty  square  miles  are  in  New  Mexico. 
Its  average  elevation  is  about  six  thousand  feet,  though 
near  the  Colorado  River  it  is  often  but  four  thousand. 
The  highest  peak  is  about  in  the  centre  of  the  present 
reservation,  in  the  Tunicha  Mountains,  and  is  upwards 
of  nine  thousand  five  hundred  feet  high. 

The  Tunicha  range  is  covered  with  glorious  and  ma- 
jestic pines,  and  all  along  its  flanks  are  wide  plateaus 
through  which  gloomy  and  massive  canyons  convey  the 
storm  waters  from  the  heights  above  into  the  plains 
below.  Its  close  proximity  to  the  Grand  Canyon  sug- 
gests what  its  general  appearance  might  be.  Drained 
deep  down  by  the  canyons  and  gorges  tributary  to  this 
great  vampire  canyon,  it  is  seamed  and  scarred  by  the 
dashing  down  of  many  waters.  Its  rocks  are  cut  up 
into  a  thousand  fantastic  forms  and  shapes,  which  look 
over  sterile  valleys  full  of  sand.  These  valleys  are  num- 
berless, and  one  of  them,  the  I-chi-ni-li,  —  commonly 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     139 

called  the  Chin-lee,  —  stretches  from  the  south  to  be- 
yond the  San  Juan  River  on  the  north,  to  the  west  of 
the  Tunicha  range. 

The  ancient  boundaries  of  the  land,  long  prior  to  the 
advent  of  the  Spaniard,  were  four  majestic  mountains, 
which  now  approximately  determine  the  reserve.  On 
the  east  is  Pelado  Peak ;  on  the  south,  Mt.  San  Mateo 
(commonly  called  Mt.  Taylor) ;  on  the  west,  the  San 
Francisco  range ;  and  on  the  north,  the  San  Juan  Moun- 
tains. Each  of  these  is  over  eleven  thousand  feet  in 
height.  Hence  it  will  be  seen  that  there  is  a  vast  range 
of  altitude,  yet  it  is  questionable  whether  anywhere  else 
in  the  world  so  large  a  population  inhabits  so  barren 
and  inhospitable  a  country.  On  the  lower  levels  it  is 
mainly  desert,  with  scant  pasture  here  and  there;  on 
the  higher  mesas  or  plateaus  there  are  many  junipers, 
pinions,  and  red  cedars. 

It  is  a  difficult  matter  to  determine  the  population 
of  the  Navahoes.  While  they  were  in  captivity  the 
official  count  was  seven  thousand  three  hundred,  but 
desertions  were  frequent,  and  at  one  time  about  seven 
hundred  of  the  renegades  came  in  and  surrendered,  and 
it  is  well  known  that  many  never  were  captured  or 
surrendered. 

In  1869  the  government  distributed  thirty  thousand 
sheep  and  two  thousand  goats  to  them,  and  a  count 
was  ordered.  This  was  a  most  favorable  time  to  make 
it,  as  besides  the  sheep  and  goats,  two  years'  annuities 
were  given  out,  and  rations  distributed  every  four  days. 
The  total  summed  up  some  nine  thousand. 

In  1890  the  official  census  reported  17,204,  but 
Cosmos  Mendeleff,  writing  in  1895-96,  says  the  tribe 
numbers  only  "  over  12,000  souls."  It  scarcely  seems 


1 4o       THE    INDIANS   OF   THE 

possible,  if  the  count  in  1869  was  anything  near  accurate 
that  the  population  could  have  increased  to  17,204  in 
1890.  Still  it  must  be  remembered  that,  though  not 
prolific,  the  Navaho  is  a  good  breeder.  He  is  healthy, 
vigorous,  robust,  and  strong,  and  his  wife  (or  wives,  for 
he  is  a  polygamist)  equally  so.  Living  an  out-door  life, 
inured  to  hardships,  generally  possessed  of  plenty  to 
eat,  of  coarse,  rough,  hearty,  but  nutritious  food,  engaged 
in  occupations  and  indulging  in  sports  that  cultivate  their 
athletic  powers,  free  from  the  consumptive  and  scrofu- 
lous tendencies  of  most  reservation  Indians,  they  are  well 
fitted  to  be  the  progenitors  of  healthy  children. 

Though  polygamists,  they  are  moral  and  chaste.  In 
their  legends  they  have  always  regarded  marital  unfaith- 
fulness as  a  prolific  source  of  sorrow  and  punishment. 
In  their  Origin  Legend  this  sin  led  to  their  banishment 
from  the  first  world,  and  again  from  the  second,  and 
also  from  the  third,  the  wronged  chief  execrating  them 
as  follows :  "  For  such  crimes  I  suppose  you  were 
chased  from  the  world  below ;  you  shall  drink  no  more 
of  our  water,  you  shall  breathe  no  more  of  our  air. 
Begone  ! " 

In  this  legend  Washington  Matthews  tells  of  G6ntso, 
or  Big  Knee,  a  chief  who  had  twelve  wives,  four  from 
each  of  three  different  gens  or  families.  Though  he  was 
a  bountiful  provider,  his  wives  were  unfaithful  to  him. 
He  complained  to  the  chiefs  of  their  families  and  to  their 
relations  and  begged  them  to  remonstrate  with  the 
wicked  women,  but  remonstrances  and  rebukes  seemed 
to  be  in  vain.  At  last  they  said  to  Big  Knee,  "  Do 
with  them  as  you  will,  we  shall  not  interfere."  The 
next  time  he  detected  the  unfaithfulness  of  his  wives 
he  mutilated  one,  another  he  cut  the  ears  from,  a  third 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     141 

cut  off  her  breasts,  and  all  these  three  died.  A  fourth 
he  cut  off  her  nose,  and  she  lived.  He  thereupon  deter- 
mined that  henceforth  he  would  cut  off  the  nose  of  any 
unfaithful  wife,  for  that  would  be  a  visible  mark  of  her 
shame  and  yet  would  not  kill  her.  She  would  be  com- 
pelled to  live,  and  all  men  and  women  would  know  of 
her  wickedness.  But  even  this  horrible  punishment  did 
not  have  the  deterrent  effect  he  expected.  It  was  not 
long  before  another  and  then  another  was  detected  and 
punished,  until,  before  long,  his  whole  family  of  wives 
was  noseless.  Instead  of  rebuking  themselves  and  their 
sins  as  the  cause  of  their  mutilation  these  women  would 
gather  together  to  rail  against  their  husband,  and  their 
relations,  whom  they  claimed  should  have  protected 
them.  Big  Knee  was  compelled  to  sleep  alone  in 
a  well-protected  hut,  and  the  women  grew  more  deter- 
mined than  ever  to  work  him  an  injury. 

About  this  time  the  people  got  up  a  big  ceremony 
for  the  benefit  of  Big  Knee.  It  lasted  nine  days,  and 
on  the  night  of  the  last  day  the  mutilated  women,  who 
had  kept  themselves  secluded  in  a  hut,  came  forth,  and 
with  knives  in  their  hands,  proceeded  to  sing  and  dance 
as  was  expected  of  them.  Around  the  fire  they  circled, 
singing  "  Peshla  ashila  "  —  ".It  was  the  knife  that  did 
it  to  me  "  —  and  peering  among  the  spectators  for  their 
husband.  He  was  safe,  however,  for  he  was  hidden  in 
the  circle  of  branches  that  made  the  dance  corral.  As 
they  concluded  the  dance  they  ran  from  the  corral, 
cursing  all  who  were  present  with  fearful  maledictions : 
"  May  the  waters  drown  ye  !  May  the  winters  freeze  ye  ! 
May  the  fires  burn  ye  !  May  the  lightnings  strike  ye  !  " 
and  other  equally  malicious  curses.  Then  they  departed 
and  went  into  the  far  north,  where  they  now  dwell,  and, 


142       THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 

according  to  the  Navahoes,  whenever  these  noseless 
women  turn  their  faces  to  the  south  we  have  cold  winds 
and  storms  and  lightning. 

From  this  legend  it  is  observed  that  the  husband's  power 
over  the  wife  was  somewhat  limited.  Gontso  dare  not 
punish  his  wives  without  the  consent  of  their  relations. 
This  freedom  of  the  woman  is  observed  to  this  day,  she 
regarding  herself  in  most  things  as  the  equal,  and  some- 
times the  superior,  of  her  husband. 

From  all  I  can  learn,  marital  unchastity  is  uncommon, 
though  where  the  tribe  is  in  close  contact  with  the  towns 
along  the  railway  there  are  generally  to  be  found  men 
who  will  sell  their  wives  and  daughters,  and  mothers  who 
will  sell  their  girls  to  debased  white  men.  Among  the 
respectable  members  of  the  tribe,  if  a  man  discovers  that 
his  wife,  or  one  of  them,  is  unfaithful,  he  may  take  it 
upon  himself  to  chastise  her,  but  such  is  the  independ- 
ent position  of  the  woman  that  he  must  be  very  wise 
and  judicious  or  she  will  speedily  leave  him. 

Divorce  is  not  common,  but  is  allowable  for  cause, 
the  parties  chiefly  concerned  generally  settling  all  the 
details.  Occasionally,  however,  a  transaction  occurs 
that  in  civilized  society  would  occasion  quite  a  buzz  of 
busy  tongues.  One  such  happened  but  a  few  years 
ago.  Mr.  George  H.  Pepper  of  the  American  Museum 
of  Natural  History  tells  the  story.  The  facts  were 
within  his  own  knowledge.  One  of  the  husbands  had 
a  wife  who  positively  refused  to  wash  and  brush  his  hair. 
He  would  coax  and  persuade,  urge  and  command, 
threaten  and  bluster,  but  all  to  no  effect.  The  dusky 
creature  was  neither  to  be  led  nor  driven.  If  he  wanted 
his  hair  washed  and  combed  he  must  do  it  himself. 

While  the  disappointed  husband  was  cogitating  over  his 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     143 

miserable  marital  experiences,  a  friend  from  a  distance, 
with  his  wife,  came  to  visit  him.  As  the  men  got  to 
talking  and  finally  exchanging  confidences  about  their 
wives,  the  one  told  the  other  of  the  unwifely  conduct  of 
his  spouse.  The  visitor  condoled  with  his  host  and  told 
what  a  good  wife  he  had,  how  very  obedient  she  was, 
and  the  like,  until  he  had  quite  exalted  her,  and  the  host 
determined  to  take  a  better  look  than  he  had  hitherto 
given  at  such  a  paragon  of  a  wife.  Whether  this  was 
a  scheme  of  the  visitor  or  not  it  was  scarcely  possible  to 
tell,  but,  anyhow,  it  worked  out  as  well  as  if  it  had  been 
carefully  planned ;  for  as  the  host  studied  the  visitor's 
wife  he  fell  head  over  ears  in  love  with  her,  and,  strange 
to  say,  a  corresponding  affinity  was  discovered  to  exist 
between  the  two  others.  Accordingly,  a  day  or  two 
later  the  visitor  suggested  to  the  host  that  as  he  (the 
host)  wanted  a  wife  to  wash  and  comb  his  hair,  while  he 
(the  visitor)  was  content  with  a  wife  that  would  do 
neither,  what  was  to  hinder  their  "  swapping  "  their  life 
partners  and  thus  making  a  satisfactory  end  to  his  do- 
mestic difficulties?  With  joy  the  disappointed  husband 
accepted  the  offer,  —  a  little  "  boot "  was  required  to 
make  the  exchange  satisfactorily,  and  then  the  result  was 
communicated  to  the  women.  Neither  of  them  was 
consulted  in  the  slightest,  but  without  any  hesitancy 
they  fell  in  with  the  agreement.  The  visitor  rode  off 
satisfied,  accompanied  by  his  new  wife,  while  the  wife 
who  came  as  a  visitor  inaugurated  her  new  relationship 
by  shyly  coming  into  her  new  husband's  hogan  with  an 
olla  of  water,  the  necessary  soap-root,  and  the  whisk 
with  which  to  wash  and  comb  her  liege's  hair.  And 
now,  for  three  years,  the  two  couples  are  known  to  have 
lived  together  in  "  amity  and  concord." 


144       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

A  few  years  ago  it  would  perhaps  have  been  safe  to 
designate  the  Navahoes  as  the  most  wealthy  Indians  of 
the  United  States.  Many  of  them  were  worth  hundreds 
of  dollars.  They  understood  and  practised  the  art 
of  irrigation;  they  grew  large  crops  of  corn,  squash, 
melons,  beans,  chili,  and  onions.  Some  had  large  and 
thriving  bands  of  horses,  which » they  traded  with  the 
Havasupais,  Wallapais,  Hopis,  Paiutis,  and  other  neigh- 
boring people.  I  have  often  met  a  band  of  six  or  eight 
Navaho  traders  with  horses  and  blankets  in  the  canyon 
of  the  Havasu,  and  they  took  away  the  well-dressed 
buckskins  in  exchange,  for  which  these  canyon  people 
are  noted.  From  the  Paiutis,  they  obtained  baskets 
and  their  tusjehsy  or  wicker-work,  pinion  gum-covered 
water-bottles. 

As  for  sheep  and  goats,  there  are  few  places  in  the 
United  States  where  so  many  were  to  be  found  as  on 
the  Navaho  reservation.  Every  family  had  its  flock, 
as  every  woman  was  a  blanket  weaver ;  and  one  of  the 
prettiest  sights  in  the  whole  Painted  Desert  Region  was 
to  come  upon  a  flock  of  these  gentle,  domestic  creatures 
quietly  pasturing,  led  or  driven  by  the  owner  herself, 
or  one  of  her  children. 

But  the  last  few  years  have  made  a  great  difference 
in  their  prosperity.  Rains  have  been  rare,  water  scarce, 
and  pasture  scant,  and  as  a  result  their  flocks  are  re- 
duced to  woeful  proportions.  Their  nomadic  habits 
render  the  improvement  of  their  locations  impossible, 
and  their  superstition  in  regard  to  the  burning  of  a 
hogan  in  which  any  one  has  died  compels  frequent 
migrations.  * 

There  is  no  doubt  but  that  for  the  past  three  hundred 
years  of  historic  time  the  Navahoes  have  been  thieves, 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     145 

robbers,  and  murderers.  The  Hopis  contend  that  all  the 
sheep  they  had  before  the  general  distribution,  earlier 
referred  to,  were  stolen  from  them.  This  is  probably 
true,  but  it  is  equally  probable  that  had  the  Navahoes 
not  stolen  them  the  Utes  would ;  and  while  this  seems 
poor  comfort,  after  facts  showed  that  it  was  an  exceed- 
ingly good  thing  that  Navahoes  rather  than  Utes  became 
their  possessors.  For,  once  in  their  possession,  the 
Navahoes  became  careful  breeders  (for  aborigines)  of 
sheep,  and  when  marauding  bands  of  Utes  came  into 
the  country  the  warlike  Navahoes  drove  them  away, 
thus  defending  the  sheep  so  that  the  Hopis  could  obtain 
the  nucleus  of  a  new  flock  later  on. 

In  the  next  chapter  I  present,  a  fairly  full  and  accu- 
rate account  of  the  art  of  blanket- weaving,  for  which  the 
Navahoes  are  now  so  noted. 

As  a  rule  the  physical  development  of  the  Navahoes  is 
sturdy  and  robust,  as  will  be  seen  from  the  accompany- 
ing photographs.  They  average  well,  and  with  slight 
range  on  either  side  from  a  fair  and  normal  develop- 
ment. There  are  few  excessively  strong,  and  equally  few 
very  weak  people  among  them.  The  same  may  be  said 
of  their  fatness  and  leanness,  both  'extremes  being  rare. 

The  men,  as  is  common  with  all  Indians,  pluck  out 
the  hair  on  both  lips  and  chin,  though,  occasionally, 
one  will  find  a  man  who  has  allowed  his  moustache  to 
grow.  The  hair  on  the  head  is  seldom  cut,  and  with 
both  sexes  is  allowed  to  grow  long.  The  men  tie  it 
in  a  knot  behind,  and  wrap  a  high-colored  "  banda " 
around  the  forehead,  thus  confining  the  hair  and  adding 
considerably  to  their  own  picturesqueness. 

Being  a  prosperous  people,  they  are  generally  con- 
tented looking,  and  wear  that  air  of  complacent  self- 


10 


146       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

satisfaction  that  is  a  sure  sign  of  prosperity.  It  seems 
clearly  to  say :  "  We  are  a  good  people,  a  specially 
favored  because  specially  deserving  people,  hence  look 
upon  us  and  understand  our  prosperity."  There  are 
no  beggars  among  the  better  class  of  the  Navahoes, 
and  men  as  well  as  women  are  hard  workers.  As  a 
nation  they  are  decidedly  producers.  Mr.  Cotton  has 
large  gangs  of  them  working  at  grading,  etc.,  on  the  Santa 
Fe  Railway,  and  they  can  be  found  helping  white  men 
in  as  many  and  as  various  occupations  as  the  Chinese 
in  California.  The  industry  of  the  women  is  proverbial, 
for  seldom  will  one  be  found  idle,  her  greatest  seeming 
pleasure  being  to  have  her  hands  constantly  occupied. 
What  with  carding  the,  wool,  washing,  dyeing,  and  spin- 
ning it,  preparing  the  dyes  (after  collecting  them)  for 
coloring  it,  and  then  weaving  the  blankets  for  which 
they  are  famous,  going  out  into  the  mountains  to  col- 
lect the  wild  seeds  and  roots  of  which  they  are  fond, 
caring  for  the  corn,  tending  the  sheep  and  goats,  pre- 
paring the  daily  food,  and  many  other  duties  that  they 
impose  upon  themselves,  none  can  say  they  are  not 
models  of  industry.  Men,  women,  and  children  alike 
are  fearless  riders.  The  wealth  of  many  a  man  is  de- 
termined by  his  possessions  of  horses  and  sheep,  and 
from  earliest  years  the  boys  are  required  to  attend  to 
the  bands  of  horses.  In  their  semi-nomad  life  the 
women  ride  about  with  the  men,  and  thus  become 
skilled  riders.  They  sit  astride,  mounting  and  dis- 
mounting as  easily  as  the  men,  and  riding  wherever 
occasion  demands. 

The  saddles  are  made  by  the  men,  and  are  a  modifi- 
cation of  the  big-horned  Mexican  variety.  The  tree  is 
cut  out  with  infinite  patience  and  care,  and  is  then 


THE  ANTELOPE  PRIESTS  LEAVING  THEIR  KIVA  FOR  THE  SNAKE  DANCE. 


THE  WIDOW,  DAUGHTERS,  AND  GRANDCHILDREN  OF  THE 
NAVAHO  CHIEF,  MANUELITO. 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     147 

covered  with  rawhide  or  bought  leather,  and  adorned 
with  rows  of  brass-headed  nails.  The  girth,  or  cinch,  is 
home  woven,  of  wool,  cotton,  or  horsehair,  the  former 
being  preferred. 

That  the  Navahoes  are  or  were  expert  engineers,  and 
could  construct  difficult  trails,  is  evidenced  by  their 
trails  into  Chaca  Canyon  from  the  mesa  above.  Simp- 
son thus  describes  what  he  saw  in  1849:  UA  mile 
further,  observing  several  Navahoes  high  above  us, 
on  the  brink  of  the  north  wall,  shouting  and  gesticulat- 
ing as  if  they  were  very  glad  to  see  us,  what  was  our 
astonishment  when  they  commenced  tripping  down 
the  almost  sheer  wall  before  them,  as  nimbly  and 
dexterously  as  minuet  dancers !  Indeed,  the  force 
of  gravity,  and  their  descent  upon  a  steep  inclined 
plane,  made  such  a  kind  of  performance  absolutely 
necessary  to  insure  their  equilibrium." 

They  are  a  remarkably  intelligent  people,  and  their 
faces  are,  as  a  rule,  pliant  and  expressive.  There  is 
none  of  the  proverbial  stolidness  to  be  found  among 
any  except  very  few  of  the  older  men  of  the  Navahoes. 
If  you  are  unwelcome  you  will  know  it, —  surly  looks 
and  words  will  ask  your  mission  and  bid  you  begone. 
On  the  other  hand,  if  you  are  welcome,  glad  smiles  will 
light  up  the  faces  of  your  friends,  and  you  will  hear 
sweet  words  uttered  by  melodious  and  tuneful  voices. 
It  is  seldom  that  your  courteous  advances  will  be 
repelled,  though  they  are  very  ready  to  resent  unwel- 
come intrusions.  I  have  often  sat  for  hours  in  the 
hogans  of  entire  strangers,  and  the  conversation  of 
men  and  women  was  general  and  punctuated  with 
laughter  and  smiles,  showing  that  they  know  how  to 
make  and  appreciate  jokes. 


148       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

The  Navahoes  play  a  game  common  in  the  South- 
west, which  they  call  nanzosh.  It  is  a  simple  game, 
yet  they  seem  to  get  endless  fun  and  amusement  from 
it,  often  gambling  large  sums  upon  their  favorite 
players,  for,  while  it  looks  and  is  simple,  it  is  not  easy 
to  play  so  as  to  win.  It  requires  great  skill  and  accu- 
rate throwing.  The  implements  are  two  long  poles  and 
a  small  hoop.  The  poles  are  generally  of  alder  and  in 
two  pieces,  a  fathom  long,  and  a  long,  many-tailed  string 
called  the  turkey-claw  is  fastened  to  the  end  of  each. 
Two  players  only  are  needed.  One  throws  the  hoop. 
Both  follow,  and  when  they  think  the  hoop  is  about  to 
fall,  they  throw  their  respective  poles  so  that  the  hoop, 
in  its  fall,  will  rest  upon  those  portions  of  their  poles 
that  give  the  highest  counts. 

Catlin  describes  a  similar  game  played  by  the  Man- 
dans,  though  their  pole  is  a  single  piece  of  wood,  as  is 
that  of  the  Mohaves  and  Yumas,  both  of  whom  have  the 
same  game. 

The  taboo  is  in  existence  in  all  its  force  among  the 
Navahoes.  The  most  singular  of  these  is  that  which  for- 
bids a  man  ever  to  look  upon  the  face  of  his  mother-in- 
law.  Among  civilized  people  it  is  a  standard  subject 
for  rude  jesting,  this  relationship  of  the  mother-in-law, 
but  with  the  Navahoes,  the  white  man's  jest  is  a  subject 
of  great  earnestness.  Each  believes  that  serious  con- 
sequences will  follow  if  they  see  each  other ;  hence,  as 
it  is  the  custom  for  a  man  to  live  with  his  wife's  people, 
constant  dodging  is  required,  and  the  cries  of  warning, 
given  by  one  or  another  of  the  family  to  son  or  mother- 
in-law,  are  often  heard.  I  was  once  photographing  the 
family  of  Manuelito,  the  last  great  war-chief  of  the 
Navahoes.  The  widow  of  the  chief,  her  two  daughters, 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     149 

their  husbands  and  children,  made  up  the  group. 
But  there  was  no  getting  of  them  together.  I  would 
photograph  the  mother  with  her  daughters  and  grand- 
children, but  as  soon  as  I  called  for  the  daughters' 
husbands,  the  mother  "  slid  "  out  of  sight,  and  when  I 
wished  for  her  return,  the  men  disappeared. 

Then,  too,  a  Navaho  will  never  touch  fish,  much  less 
eat  it.  According  to  one  of  the  shamans,  the  reason  for 
this  is,  that  some  of  their  ancestors  were  once  turned 
into  fish  in  the  San  Juan  River,  and,  were  they  to  eat 
fish,  they  might  thus  become  cannibals,  and  eat  descend- 
ants of  their  own  ancestors.  As  neither  Matthews  nor 
Stephen  refers  to  this  cause  of  the  taboo,  I  merely  give 
it  for  what  it  may  be  worth.  The  former  tells  of  a  white 
woman,  who,  in  a  spirit  of  mischief,  threw  a  pan  of  water 
in  which  fish  had  been  soaked  over  a  young  Navaho. 
He  changed  his  clothes  and  bathed  himself  carefully,  in 
order  that  no  taint  of  the  tabooed  fish  might  remain 
upon  him.  I  have  had  a  great  deal  of  fun  by  innocently 
offering  candy  in  the  form  of  fish  to  Navahoes.  As 
they  are  fond  of  candy,  it  was  a  strong  proof  of  the 
power  of  the  taboo  that  they  invariably  refused  to 
touch  it. 

Superstition  naturally  forms  a  large  part  of  the  Nav- 
aho's  thought.  He  believes  in  charms,  amulets,  fetishes, 
witchcraft,  taboos,  magic,  and  all  the  wondrous  things 
he  can  conceive.  His  name  for  a  personal  fetish  is  Bi- 
zha, "  his  treasure,  something  he  especially  valttes ;  hence 
his  charm,  his  amulet,  his  personal  fetish,  his  magic 
weapon,  something  that  one  carries  to  mysteriously 
protect  himself." 

The  talisman  or  amulet  for  the  gambler  is  a  piece  of 
fine  turquoise,  because  Noholipi,  a  gambling  god,  who 


1 50       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

appears  in  their  Origin  Legend,  was  made  successful 
always  with  a  large  piece  of  this  precious  stone. 

There  are  quite  a  number  of  medicine-men,  or 
shamans,  among  the  Navahoes,  some  good,  others  bad. 
It  has  been  my  privilege  to  know  several  who  are  men 
of  dignity  and  character. 

Dr.  Matthews,  in  writing  of  them,  thus  strongly  ex- 
presses himself:  "  There  are,  among  the  Navahoes,  char- 
latans and  cheats  who  treat  disease ;  men  who  pretend 
to  suck  disease  out  of  the  patient,  and  then  draw  from 
their  own  mouths  pebbles,  pieces  of  charcoal,  or  bodies 
of  insects,  claiming  that  these  are  the  disease  which 
they  have  extracted.  But  the  priests  of  the  great  rites 
are  not  to  be  classed  with  such.  All  of  these  with 
whom  the  writer  is  acquainted  are  above  such  trickery. 
They  perform  their  ceremonies  in  the  firm  conviction 
that  they  are  invoking  divine  aid,  and  their  calling 
lends  dignity  to  their  character."  Of  Hatali  Natloi, 
the  smiling  chanter,  he  says :  "  He  would  be  considered 
a  man  of  high  character  in  any  community.  He  is 
dignified,  courteous,  kind,  honest,  truthful,  and  self- 
respecting." 

This  is  the  universal  testimony  of  all  who  know  this 
class  of  men  with  reasonable  intimacy.  Though  the 
white  man  may  believe  the  performances  of  a  shaman 
ridiculous  or  superstitious,  that  need  not  interfere  with 
his  respect  and  esteem. 

To  understand  this  subject  aright,  one  must  clearly 
apprehend  the  Indian  meaning  of  the  terms  "  medi- 
cine," and  "  medicine-men."  Oftentimes  the  latter  are 
called  priests,  sometimes  thaumaturgists,  oftener  shamans, 
and,  of  course,  by  all  unknowing  white  men  are  un- 
hesitatingly denounced  as  frauds  and  humbugs.  Now 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     151 

to  the  Indian  all  things  that  work  injury  to  him  are 
bad  medicine.  If  you  write  his  name  (or  any  scrawl 
he  cannot  understand)  on  a  piece  of  paper  and  look  at 
it  solemnly  and  then  at  him,  at  the  same  time  shaking 
your  head,  you  can  persuade  him  into  the  belief  that  it 
is  "  bad  medicine."  Owen  Wister  recently  wrote  in  one 
of  the  popular  magazines  an  interesting  story,  the 
whole  plot  of  which  was  based  upon  his  knowledge  of 
this  fact. 

With  the  Navaho  it  is  "  bad  medicine  "  to  touch  an 
achindee  hogan  (or  house).  When  a  person  dies  within 
a  house,  the  rafters  are  tumbled  over  the  body,  and  the 
whole  set  on  fire.  After  that  it  would  be  exceeding 
"  bad  medicine  "  for  a  Navaho  to  go  near  the  spot,  or 
touch  a  piece  of  wood  belonging  to  that  hogan ;  for  the 
spirit  (the  achindee)  is  supposed  to  remain  in  the 
locality,  and  he  resents  any  undue  intrusion  into  his 
domain.  Before  I  was  aware  of  the  custom  and  feeling, 
I  camped  near  an  abandoned  and  partially  burned 
hogan.  When  I  sent  my  Navaho  man  to  it  for  wood 
for  a  fire,  he  went  half  a  mile  away  into  the  mountain 
and  stayed  there.  I  was  unable  to  understand  his  feel- 
ing, but  later  I  learned  that  except  under  the  pangs  of 
direst  hunger,  he  would  never  have  touched  a  morsel 
of  food  prepared  over  a  fire  in  which  wood  from  the 
achindee  hogan  had  been  used. 

Medicine-men  are  often  used  as  instruments  for  the 
working  of  private  revenge.  Cowards  are  to  be  found 
among  Indians  as  among  white  men.  Among  white 
men  these  despicable  wretches  attack  their  foes  through 
the  columns  of  newspapers  or  in  the  pages  of  magazines, 
while  among  the  former  they  call  in  the  services  of  a 
medicine-man.  This  hired  charlatan  then  either  directly 


152       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

or  by  proxy  works  upon  the  fears  of  the  man  he  is  hired 
to  injure.  Sometimes  he  actually  poisons  or  otherwise 
harms  him  under  pretence  of  protecting  him.  But  the 
Indian  is  dreadfully  superstitious,  and  to  work  upon  his 
mind  is  easy,  and  he  soon  imagines  himself  to  be  sick. 

For  the  cure  of  disease  the  better  class  of  Navaho 
shamans  have  a  system  of  chanting,  praying,  dancing, 
bathing,  sweating,  etc.,  that  Dr.  Matthews  has  fully  de- 
scribed in  the  United  States  Bureau  of  Ethnology 
reports.  The  complexity  of  these  ceremonies  cannot 
be  comprehended  or  conceived  by  those  whose  knowl- 
edge of  the  Indian  is  superficial  and  casual. 

If,  however,  a  shaman  makes  himself  unpopular,  or 
fails  to  cure  in  several  successive  cases,  or  earns  the 
enmity  of  a  treacherous  shaman  foe,  he  is  liable  to  be 
accused  of  witchcraft,  and  if  a  sufficient  number  of  the 
people  can  be  made  to  believe  the  charge  he  is  speedily 
done  away  with.  One  of  the  shamans  made  famous  by 
Dr.  Matthews  was  recently  killed  on  account  of  his 
harsh  and  tyrannical  manner.  He  was  accused  of 
witchcraft  and  shot.  Hence  it  will  be  seen  that  the 
Navaho  is  not  yet  perfect  —  any  more  than  his  white 
brother.  No,  indeed ! 

There  are  other  points  in  which  he  is  similar  to  his 
brother  of  the  white  skin.  Some  years  ago  I  journeyed 
in  a  wagon  with  an  old  Arizona  pioneer,  Franklin  French, 
from  Winslow,  on  the  line  of  the  Santa  Fe,  through  the 
Hopi  country,  the  Mormon  town  of  Tuba  City,  past  the 
Navaho  settlements  of  Willow  Springs,  Echo  Reef,  etc., 
to  Lee's  Ferry  of  the  Colorado  River. 

Beyond  Willow  Springs  we  camped  one  night,. and  I 
went  to  a  Navaho  hogan  to  purchase  corn  and  vegetables 
for  ourselves,  and  feed  for  the  horses.  Everything  was 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     153 

six  prices  too  high,  but  the  Navahoes  knew  I  was  in 
need  of  their  articles  and  raised  the  prices  accordingly. 
It  is  not  only  the  white  man  that  understands  the  prin- 
ciple of  "cornering  the  market."  We  compromised, 
however,  and,  after  a  hearty  supper  and  a  chat  around 
the  camp-fire,  I  rolled  myself  up  in  my  blankets  ready 
to  sleep  until  called  for  breakfast  in  the  morning. 

But  what  a  babel  of  confusing  and  distressing  sounds 
it  was  that  awakened  me  !  Surely  we  must  be  'beset  by 
a  band  of  marauding  Navahoes,  bent  on  murdering  us ! 
No ;  it  was  only  a  wordy  fight  between  my  driver  and 
three  Navaho  women,  who  had  come  to  demand  com- 
pensation for  depredations  committed  in  their  corn-field 
by  our  horses.  Hobbled,  and  turned  loose,  they  had 
discovered  somehow,  during  the  night,  that  on  Echo 
Reef  were  corn  and  other  good  fodder  to  be  had  in  the 
place  of  the  scant  feed  offered  below ;  so,  following  their 
noses,  they  had  wandered  into  corn-fields  and  melon- 
patches  to  their  own  delectation,  but  the  manifest  injury 
of  the  crops.  What  was  to  be  done  about  it?  French 
was  advising  that  the  Navahoes  imitate  the  example  of 
the  Hopis  and  cut  off  a  portion  of  the  ear  of  each  offend- 
ing animal,  but  the  women  angrily  laughed  him  to  scorn 
and  vociferously  demanded  cinquo  pesos  for  the  damage. 
These  were  not  forthcoming,  but  I  urged  the  squaws  on, 
telling  them  to  insist  that  the  hoary-headed  old  miser 
pay  them  their  just  demands,  and  informing  them,  in 
purest  English,  of  the  opinions  French  had  expressed 
regarding  them,  as  a  people,  the  night  before.  The 
aborigines  did  n't  quite  know  what  to  make  out  of  my 
fluent  verbosity,  and  French  at  last  impatiently  turned 
to  me  and  told  me  there  'd  be  a  "  pretty  general  monkey 
and  parrot  time  started  here  pretty  quick,  if  I  did  n't  let 


i54      THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

up,  and  that  '11  be  follered  by  a  pretty  tall  foot-race 
between  us  two,  in  which  you  '11  be  'way  off  in  the  lead." 
So  we  compromised  with  our  dusky  visitors  by  invit- 
ing them  to  eat  up  the  remnants  of  our  breakfast,  and 
then  carry  away  a  little  coffee  and  sugar.  The  only 
thing  I  am  now  afraid  of  is  that,  at  the  next  visit  I  make 
them,  they  will  privately  and  stealthily,  under  the  cover 
of  night,  lead  our  steeds  into  the  forbidden  fields,  and 
encourage  them  in  their  thefts,  in  order  that  they  may 
enjoy  another  "  compromise." 

Primitive  peoples  at  an  early  date  felt  the  desire  for 
personal  adornment.  With  the  Navaho  this  found 
expression  in  painting  the  body  with  various  col- 
ored ochres  or  clays,  in  fashioning  garments  out  of 
the  skins  of  animals,  in  wearing  head-dresses  and 
other  fantastic  ornaments  made  from  feathers,  and  in 
necklaces,  bracelets,  anklets,  and  wristlets  made  of 
small  flint  arrowpoints,  or  of  the  dried  seeds  of 
juniper,  pinion,  and  other  plants,  or  of  bones.  Later 
they  secured  beads  of  shell,  turquoise,  and  coral  by 
barter. 

But  nearly  all  this  primitive  decoration  received  a 
rude  shock  of  displacement  when  the  Mexican  colonist 
came  upon  the  scene,  with  his  iron,  copper,  and  silver 
adornments  glittering  in  the  sunlight.  From  coveting, 
the  Navaho  took  to  possessing  by  fair  means  or  foul. 
He  would  barter  his  skins  or  other  native  possessions 
for  the  precious  metals,  using  brass  and  copper  for  the 
making  of  ornaments,  and  iron  for  tipping  his  arrows. 
Silver,  however,  has  never  lost  its  charm  for  him.  The 
Mexican  vaquero,  trapped  out  in  the  glittering  metal, 
has  ever  been  his  ideal  of  personal  adornment,  and  he 
retains  it  to  this  day.  Silver  is  the  only  coin  they  care 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     155 

to  accept,  though  the  better  educated  now  know  the 
superior  value  of  gold. 

There  are  some  clever,  skilful  silversmiths  among 
them  —  peshlikais,  as  they  call  themselves.  In  cru- 
cibles of  their  own  manufacture  they  melt  the  precious 
metal,  using  a  crude  and  primitive  blast  furnace,  with 
charcoal  as  fuel,  and  the  molten  silver  is  then  poured 
into  moulds  which  they  have  shaped  out  of  sandstone 
or  other  rock.  They  understand  the  art  of  uniting  two 
pieces  of  metal  together,  for  many  of  their  ornaments 
are  hollow  and  globular,  originally  made  in  two  parts 
and  then  joined.  Scarcely  a  man  or  woman  of  any 
standing  in  the  tribe  does  not  possess  a  home-manu- 
factured necklace  of  silver  beads  or  articles  of  some  de- 
sign, —  a  finger  ring  or  two,  one  or  more  bracelets,  and 
sometimes  a  pair  of  ear  pendants.  Above  all  they  covet 
the  belt  with  large  silver  disks.  Each  of  these  disks 
is  made  of  two  or  more  silver  dollars,  melted  and  run 
into  a  flat  mould.  This  thick  sheet  is  then  hammered 
out  to  the  required  size  and  shape,  which  is  either  oval 
or  circular,  and  chased  with  small  tools.  The  border 
is  generally  filleted  and  the  edges  scalloped.  When 
finished  each  disk  has  a  value  of  twice  its  original  cost 
in  coin  silver.  Sometimes  a  belt  will  contain  eight  or 
nine  disks  and  a  buckle,  which  cannot  be  bought  for  less 
than  thirty-six  to  forty  dollars.  This,  too,  is  actual  cost 
price.  If  the  Navaho  does  n't  care  to  part  with  it,  an 
extra  five  or  ten  dollars,  or  even  more,  is  required  to 
induce  him  to  let  it  go. 

In  addition  to  these  objects  of  personal  adornment, 
many  of  the  more  wealthy  have  silver  bridles.  The 
bridle  itself  is  made  of  leather  or  woven  horsehair,  and 
then  the  silver  strips  and  bars,  artistically  chased  and 


156       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

decorated,  are  placed  and  fastened  on  the  headstall. 
Silver  buttons  of  pretty  and  tasty  design  are  com- 
monly used  on  gaiters  and  moccasins.  These  are  made 
from  beaten  coins,  twenty-five  and  fifty-cent  pieces,  and 
the  obverse  side  is  often  found  in  its  original  state  as 
stamped  in  the  United  States  or  Mexican  mint. 

The  bracelets  are  of  various  designs,  sometimes 
simple  round  circlets;  other  times  the  silver  is  trian- 
gular, but  the  most  common  shape  is  a  flat  band,  on  the 
outer  side  of  which  chasings  and  gravings  are  made. 
These  bracelets  are  made  so  that  they  can  be  slipped 
sideways  over  the  wrist.  These  and  all  the  other  articles 
mentioned  are  worn  equally  by  women  and  men. 

The  finger  rings  are  often  adorned  with  a  rude  setting 
of  turquoise  or  garnet.  The  former  is  found  in  various 
parts  of  New  Mexico,  and  on  their  reservation  they  dig 
garnets,  spinel  rubies,  jacinths,  peridots,  opals,  smoky 
topaz,  and  crystal  spar  in  large  quantities.  From  the 
Petrified  Forest  they  obtain  jasper,  carnelian,  chalced- 
ony, agate,  and  amethyst.  All  these  objects  are  rudely 
polished  and  shaped,  and  used  on  rings,  ear  pendants, 
or  necklaces. 

It  has  been  stated  that  the  Navaho  is  exceedingly 
superstitious  about  making  or  allowing  to  be  made  any 
representation  of  a  snake,  and  that  on  one  occasion  a 
silversmith  who  offended  by  beginning  to  make  a  brace- 
let of  rattlesnake  design  was  cruelly  beaten,  his  work- 
shop demolished,  and  the  hated  emblem  destroyed. 
This  may  be  true,  but  I  have  ridden  all  over  the  Navaho 
reservation  wearing  both  a  rattlesnake  ring  and  bracelet, 
and  have  had  several  made  for  me,  on  different  parts 
of  the  reservation,  by  different  peshlikais.  I  am  now 
wearing  a  ring  of  rattlesnake  design  made  by  a  Navaho 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     157 

silversmith  and  given  to  me  with  this  thought  as  ex- 
plained to  me  by  the  donor :  "  The  snake  watches  and 
guards  for  us  our  springs  and  water-courses.  Water 
is  the  most  precious  thing  we  possess  in  the  desert.  I 
make  for  you  this  ring  in  the  form  of  a  snake,  that  the 
power  that  guards  our  most  precious  thing  may  always 
guard  you." 

I  wore  this  ring  when  unfortunately  I  was  bitten  by 
a  rattlesnake  at  Phoenix,  in  February,  1902 ;  but  as  I 
speedily  recovered,  I  am  satisfied  that  my  Navaho  friend 
will  insist  that  it  was  the  ring  and  its  virtues  that  kept 
me  from  sudden  death,  and  that  hastened  my  complete 
recovery.1 

A  most  interesting  settlement  of  Navahoes  is  that  of 
To-hatch-i,  or  Little  Water,  some  forty  miles  northwest 
of  Gallup,  New  Mexico.  Here  I  was  invited  by  Mrs. 
E.  H.  De  Vore,  the  teacher  of  the  government  school. 
The  drive  is  over  an  interesting  country,  part  of 
which  is  covered  by  junipers  and  cedars,  and  where  the 
road  winds  around  strangely  and  fantastically  sculptured 
rocks  as  it  reaches  the  great  Navaho  plateau. 

The  major  portion  of  the  Navahoes  were  kind  and 
hospitable  and  greeted  me  cordially.  The  day  after  my 
arrival  I  was  talking  with  Hosteen  Da-a-zhy  about  the 
other  Indian  tribes  I  -had  visited,  when  suddenly  the 
thought  came  to  me  which  I  immediately  expressed: 
"  When  I  go  to  my  friends  the  Hopis  and  Acomas  and 

1  Since  writing  this  I  visited  the  Hopi  Snake  Dance  at  Oraibi,  in 
September,  1902.  One  of  the  Navahoes  I  met  there  informed  me  that 
he  had  come  as  the  messenger  of  my  peshlikai  friend  at  Tohatchi, 
and  he  asked,  "  When  klish  (the  rattlesnake)  bit  you  did  you  wear  the 
klish  ring  ? "  I  answered,  "  Yes."  "  Then,"  said  he,  "  that  was  the 
reason  you  recovered.  Had  you  not  worn  it  you  would  speedily  have 
died."  Of  course  I  believed  him. 


158       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

Zunis  they  always  know  I  am  weary  and  tired  with  my 
long  journey  across  the  sandy  desert,  and  they  have 
their  women  prepare  a  bowl  of  "  tal-a-wush "  and  cool 
and  refresh  me  by  shampooing  my  head."  Talawush 
is  the  Navaho  for  the  root  of  the  amole  (soap-root), 
which,  macerated  and  then  beaten  up  and  down  in  a  bowl 
of  water,  produces  a  delicious  lather,  which,  for  a  sham- 
poo, has  no  equal. 

In  a  moment,  as  though  grieved  by  his  thoughtless- 
ness and  want  of  hospitality,  Da-a-zhy  called  to  his 
oldest  daughter,  and  bade  her  prepare  some  talawush 
to  give  me  a  shampoo.  The  woman  muttered  some 
protest,  — "  it  was  enough  to  wash  her  own  husband's 
head  without  having  to  wash  mine,"  —  but  her  father 
sternly  rebuked  her  for  her  want  of  courtesy  to  the 
stranger.  In  a  short  time  the  preparations  were  all 
made.  I  sent  to  Mrs,  De  Vore  and  borrowed  a  couple 
of  towels,  and  then  in  the  shade  outside  knelt  down  with 
my  head  over  a  large  bowl  full  of  the  refreshing  suds. 
Very  gently  at  first,  and  afterwards  more  vigorously, 
the  good  woman  lathered  my  head  —  and  oh,  how  cool- 
ing and  soothing  it  was  !  — while  her  sister  and  the  inter- 
preter stood  by  and  laughed.  Then  Hosteen  himself 
came  and  laughed  at  the  droll  remarks  of  his  daughter. 
This  general  laughter  called  others,  and  by  and  by 
Mrs.  De  Vore  and  her  sister  could  not  resist  the  tempta- 
tion to  come  and  see  what  all  the  fun  was  about  Just 
as  they  sat  down,  close  by,  my  gentle  manipulator  was 
saying :  "  Navaho  men  have  hair  only  on  the  top  of  their 
heads,  but  you  have  hair  also  on  the  bottom  [my  beard]. 
Shall  I  also  put  talawush  on  the  bottom  hair  as  well  as 
the  top  ?  "  Laughingly  I  bade  her  put  it  everywhere 
she  liked,  and  just  as  my  mouth  was  at  its  widest  she 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     159 

brought  up  a  handful  of  suds  and  filled  it  full.  Of 
course  I  half  choked,  and  this  only  made  the  laugh 
greater  than  ever,  for,  with  the  greatest  coolness  and 
sly  nonchalance  she  exclaimed :  "  It  is  a  good  thing 
that  you  got  a  mouthful.  White  men  need  to  have 
their  mouths  washed  out  pretty  often !  " 

And  what  a  delightful  sensation  the  whole  operation 
gave  one !  It  was  refreshing  beyond  description,  and, 
for  days  after,  my  hair  was  as  silky  and  soft  as  that  of 
a  child. 


i6o       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 


CHAPTER  X 
THE  NAVAHO  AS  A  BLANKET  WEAVERi 

WHEN  the  Spaniard  came  into  Arizona  and  New 
Mexico  three  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago,  he 
found  the  art  of  weaving  in  a  well-advanced  stage 
among  the  domestic  and  sedentary  Pueblo  Indians,  and 
the  wild  and  nomad  Navahoes.  The  cotton  of  these 
blankets  was  grown  by  these  Arizona  Indians  from 
time  immemorial,  and  they  also  used  the  tough  fibres 
of  the  yucca,  and  agave  leaves,  and  the  hairs  of  various 
wild  animals,  either  separately  or  with  cotton.  Their 
processes  of  weaving  were  exactly  the  same  then  as 
they  are  to-day,  there  being  but  slight  differences 
between  the  methods  followed  before  the  advent  of  the 
whites  and  after.  Hence,  in  a  study  of  Indian  blanketry, 
as  it  is  made  even  to-day,  we  are  approximating  nearly 
to  the  pure  aboriginal  methods  of  pre-Columbian  times. 
Archaeologists  a^nd  ethnologists  generally  presume 
that  the  art  of  weaving  on  the  loom  was  learned  by  the 
Navahoes  from  their  Pueblo  neighbors.  All  the  facts 
in  the  case  seem  to  bear  out  this  supposition.  Yet,  as 
is  well  known,  the  Navahoes  are  a  part  of  the  great 
Athabascan  family,  which  has  scattered,  by  separate 
migrations,  from  Alaska  into  California,  Arizona,  and 
New  Mexico.  Many  of  the  Alaskans  are  good  weavers, 

1  This  chapter  is  composed  mainly  from  an  article  of  mine  entitled 
"Indian  Blanketry,"  which  appeared  in  Outing  of  March,  1902. 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     161 

and  according  to  Navaho  traditions,  their  ancestors, 
when  they  came  into  the  country,  wore  blankets  that 
were  made  of  cedar  bark  and  of  yucca  fibre.  Even  in 
the  Alaska  (Thlinket)  blankets,  made  to-day  of  the 
wool  of  the  white  mountain-goat,  cedar  bark  is  twisted 
in  with  the  wool  of  the  warp.  Why,  then,  should  not 
the  Navaho  woman  have  brought  the  art  of  weaving, 
possibly  in  a  very  primitive  condition,  from  her  original 
Alaskan  home?  That  her  art,  however,  has  been  im- 
proved by  contact  with  the  pueblo  Hopi,  and  other 
Indians,  there  can  be  no  question,  and,  if  she  had  a 
crude  loom,  it  was  speedily  replaced  by  the  one  so  long 
used  by  the  Pueblo.  Where  the  Pueblo  weaver  gained 
her  loom  we  do  not  know,  whether  from  the  tribes  of 
the  South,  or  by  her  own  invention.  But  in  all  practical 
ways  the  primitive  loom  was  as  complete  and  perfect 
at  the  Spanish  conquest  as  it  is  to-day. 

Any  loom,  to  be  complete,  must  possess  certain 
qualifications.  As  Professor  Mason  has  well  said :  "  In 
any  style  of  mechanical  weaving,  however  simple  or 
complex,  even  in  darning,  the  following  operations  are 
performed:  First,  raising  and  lowering  alternately 
different  sets  of  warp  filaments  to  form  the  '  sheds ' ; 
second,  throwing  the  shuttle,  or  performing  some  opera- 
tion that  amounts  to  the  same  thing;  third,  after  insert- 
ing the  weft  thread,  driving  it  home,  and  adjusting  it  by 
means  of  the  batten,  —  be  it  the  needle,  the  finger,  the 
shuttle,  or  a  separate  device." 

The  frame  is  made  of  four  cottonwood  or  cedar  poles 
cut  from  the  trees  that  line  the  nearest  stream  or  grow 
in  the  mountain  forests.  Two  of  these  are  forked  for 
uprights,  and  the  cross  beams  are  lashed  to  them  above 
and  below.  Sometimes  the  lower  beam  is  dispensed 

ii 


162       THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 

with,  and  wooden  pegs  driven  into  the  earth  are  used 
instead.  The  frame  ready,  the  warp  is  arranged  on 
beams,  which  are  lashed  to  the  top  and  bottom  of  the 
frame  by  means  of  a  rawhide  or  horsehair  riata  (our 
Western  word  "  lariat "  is  merely  a  corruption  of  la  riata). 
Thus  the  warp  is  made  tight  and  is  ready  for  the  nimble 
ringers  of  the  weaver.  Her  shuttles  are  pieces  of 
smooth,  round  stick  upon  the  ends  of  which  she  has 
wound  her  yarn,  or  even  the  small  balls  of  yarn  are 
made  to  serve  this  purpose.  By  her  side  is  a  rude 
wooden  comb  with  which  she  strikes  a  few  stitches  into 
place,  but  when  she  wishes  to  wedge  the  yarn  of  a 
complete  row  —  from  side  to  side  —  of  weaving,  she 
uses  for  the  purpose  a  flat,  broad  stick,  one  edge  of 
which  is  sharpened  almost  to  knife-like  keenness.  This 
is  the  "  batten."  With  the  design  in  her  brain  her  busy 
and  skilful  ringers  produce  the  pattern  as  she  desires  it, 
there  being  no  sketch  from  which  she  may  copy.  In 
weaving  a  blanket  of  intricate  pattern  and  many  colors 
the  weaver  finds  it  easier  to  open  the  few  warp  threads 
needed  with  her  fingers  and  then  thrust  between  them 
the  small  balls  of  yarn,  rather  than  bother  with  a  shuttle, 
no  matter  how  simple. 

But  before  blankets  can  be  made  the  wool  must  be 
cut  from  the  backs  of  the  sheep,  cleaned,  carded,  spun, 
and  dyed.  It  is  one  of  the  interesting  sights  of  the 
Southwest  region  to  see  a  flock  of  sheep  and  goats 
running  together,  watched  over,  perhaps,  by  a  lad  of 
ten  or  a  dozen  years,  or  by  a  woman  who  is  ultimately 
to  weave  the  fleeces  they  carry  into  substantial  blankets. 
After  the  fleece  has  been  removed  from  the  sheep  the 
Navaho  woman  proceeds  to  wash  it.  Then  it  is  combed 
with  hand  cards  —  small  flat  implements  in  which  wire 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     163 

teeth  are  placed  —  purchased  from  the  traders.  (These 
and  the  shears  are  the  only  modern  implements  used.) 
The  dyeing  is  sometimes  done  before  spinning,  generally, 
however,  after.  The  spindle  used  is  of  the  simplest 
character  —  merely  a  slender  stick  thrust  through  a 
circular  disk  of  wood.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  the 
Navahoes  have  seen  the  spinning-wheel  in  use  by  the 
Mexicans  and  the  Mormons,  who,  at  Tuba  City,  live 
practically  as  their  neighbors,  they  have  never  cared 
either  to  make  or  steal  them.  Their  conservatism  pre- 
serves the  ancient,  slow  and  laborious  method.  Hold- 
ing the  spindle  in  the  right  hand,  the  point  of  the  short 
end  below  the  balancing  disk  resting  on  the  ground, 
and  the  long  end  on  her  knee,  the  spinner  attaches  the 
end  of  her  staple  close  to  the  disk,  and  then  gives  the 
spindle  a  rapid  twirl.  As  it  revolves  she  holds  the  yarn 
out  so  that  it  twists.  As  it  tightens  sufficiently  she 
allows  it  to  wrap  on  to  the  spindle,  and  repeats  the 
operation  until  the  spindle  is  full.  The  spinning  is  done 
loosely  or  tightly  according  to  the  fineness  of  weave 
required  in  the  blanket.  There  are  practically  four 
grades  of  blankets  made  from  native  wool,  and  it  must 
be  prepared  suitably  for  each  grade.  The  coarsest  is, 
of  course,  the  easiest  spun.  This  is  to  make  the  com- 
mon blankets.  These  seldom  have  any  other  color 
than  the  native  gray,  white,  brown,  and  black,  though 
occasionally  streaks  of  red  or  some  other  color  will  be 
introduced.  The  yarn  for  these  is  coarse  and  fuzzy, 
and  nearly  a  quarter  of  an  inch  in  diameter.  The  next 
grade  is  the  extra  common.  The  yarn  for  this  must 
be  a  little  finer,  say  twenty-five  per  cent,  finer,  and  is 
generally  in  a  variety  of  colors.  The  third  grade  is  the 
half  fancy,  and  this  is  closer  woven  yarn,  and  the  colors 


1 64       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

are  a  prominent  feature  of  the  completed  blankets. 
These  half-fancy  blankets  are  those  generally  offered  for 
sale  as  the  "  genuine  "  Navaho  material,  etc.,  and,  were 
the  dyes  used  of  native  origin,  this  designation  would 
be  correct.  Unfortunately,  in  by  far  the  greater  number 
of  them,  aniline  dyes  are  used,  and  this,  by  the  wise 
purchaser,  is  regarded  as  a  misfortune.  The  next  grade 
is  the  native  wool  fancy.  These  are  comparatively 
rare  blankets,  as  the  yarn  must  be  woven  very  tightly, 
and  the  weaving  also  done  with  great  care.  The  high- 
est grade  that  one  will  ordinary  come  in  contact  with 
is  the  Germantown.  This  style  of  blanket  is  made 
entirely  of  purchased  Germantown  yarn,  which  has 
almost  superseded  the  native  wool  fancy,  as,  to  the 
ordinary  purchaser,  a  Germantown  yarn  blanket  looks 
so  much  better  than  one  made  from  its  Navaho  counter- 
part. The  yarn  is  of  brighter  colors  —  necessarily  so, 
owing  to  the  wonderful  chromatic  gamut  offered  by 
the  aniline  dyes ;  it  is  spun  more  evenly  (not  necessarily 
more  strongly,  and,  indeed,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  is  far 
less  strong),  and  (to  the  Indian)  is  much  less  trouble 
to  procure.  Then,  too,  when  woven,  owing  to  its  good 
looks,  it  sells  for  more  than  the  native  wool  fancy,  upon 
which  so  much  more  work  has  had  to  be  put.  Hence 
Madam  Navaho,  being  no  fool,  prefers  to  make  what 
the  people  ask  for,  and  "  Germantowns  "  are  turned  out 
ad  libitum. 

But,  to  the  knowing,  there  is  still  a  higher  grade  of 
blanket.  This  is  not,  as  one  expert  (jsic)  would  have 
it,  an  attempted  copying  of  ancient  blankets,  but  a  con- 
tinuation of  an  art  which  he  declares  to  be  lost.  There 
are  several  old  weavers  who  preserve  in  themselves  all 
the  old  and  good  of  the  best  days  of  blanket  weaving. 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     165 

They  use  native  dyes,  native  wool,  —  with  bayeta  when 
they  can  get  it,  —  and  they  spin  their  wool  to  a  tension 
that  makes  it  as  durable  as  fine  steel.  They  weave 
with  care,  and  after  the  old  fashions,  following  the 
ancient  shapes  and  designs,  and  produce  blankets  that 
are  as  good  as  any  that  were  ever  made  in  the  palmiest 
days  of  the  art.  Such  blankets  take  long  in  weaving, 
and  are  both  rare  and  expensive.  I  have  just  had  one 
of  these  fine  blankets  made  (January,  1903),  and  in 
every  sense  of  the  word  it  is  equal  to  any  old  blanket  I 
ever  saw. 

The  common  blankets  and  the  extra  common  are 
sold  by  the  pound,  the  price,  of  course,-  varying,  and  of 
late  years  steadily  increasing.  Half-fancy  blankets  are 
generally  sold  by  the  piece,  and  vary  in  price  according 
to  the  harmony  of  the  colors,  the  fineness  of  the  weave, 
and  the  striking  characteristics  of  the  design.  This  is 
also  true  of  native  wool  fancy,  the  price  being  determined 
by  the  Indian  according  to  her  notions  of  the  length 
of  the  purchaser's  purse.  On  the  other  hand,  German- 
town  yarn  having  a  fixed  purchasable  price,  the  blankets 
made  from  it  are  to  be  bought  by  the  pound. 

These  remarks,  necessarily,  refer  to  the  original  pur- 
chases from  the  Indian.  There  are  no  general  rules  of 
purchase  price  followed  by  traders,  dealers,  or  retail 
salesmen. 

In  the  original  colors,  as  I  have  already  shown,  there 
are  white,  brown,  gray,  and  black,  the  last  rather  a 
grayish-black,  or,  better  still,  as  Matthews  describes  it, 
rusty.  He  also  says:  "They  still  employ  to  a  great 
extent  their  native  dyes  "  of  yellow,  reddish,  and  black. 
There  is  good  evidence  that  they  formerly  had  a  blue 
dye ;  but  indigo,  originally  introduced,  I  think,  by  the 


1 66       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

Mexicans,  has  susperseded  this.  If  they,  in  former 
days,  had  a  native  blue  and  a  native  yellow,  they  must 
also,  of  course,  have  had  a  green,  and  they  now  make 
green  of  their  native  yellow  and  indigo,  the  latter  being 
the  only  imported  dye-stuff  I  have  ever  seen  in  use 
among  them.  .  .  .  The  brilliant  red  figures  in  their  finer 
blankets  were,  a  few  years  ago,  made  entirely  of  bayeta, 
and  this  material  is  still  (1881)  largely  used.  Bayeta 
is  a  bright  scarlet  cloth  with  a  long  nap,  much  finer  in 
appearance  than  the  scarlet  strouding  which  forms 
such  an  important  article  in  the  Indian  trade  of  the 
North." 

This  bayeta  or  baize  was  unravelled,  and  the  Indian 
often  retwisted  the  warp  to  make  it  firmer  than  origi- 
nally, and  then  rewove  it  into  his  incomparable  blankets. 

From  information  mainly  gained  by  Mr.  G.  H.  Pep- 
per, of  the  American  Museum  of  Natural  History,  during 
his  three  years'  sojourn  with  the  Navahoes  as  head  of 
the  Hyde  Exploring  Expedition,  I  present  the  follow- 
ing accounts  of  their  native  dyes.  From  the  earliest 
days  the  Navahoes  have  been  expert  dyers,  their  colors 
being  black,  brick-red,  russet,  blue,  yellow,  and  a  green- 
ish-yellow akin  to  the  shade  known  as  old  gold.  To 
make  the  black  dye  three  ingredients  are  used;  viz., 
yellow  ochre,  pinion  gum,  and  the  leaves  and  twigs  of 
the  aromatic  sumac  (Rhus  aromatica).  The  ochre  is 
pulverized  and  roasted  until  it  becomes  a  light  brown, 
when  it  is  removed  from  the  fire  and  mixed  with  an 
equal  amount  of  pinion  gum.  This  mixture  is  then 
placed  on  the  fire,  and  as  the  roasting  continues  it  first 
becomes  mushy,  then  drier  and  darker,  until  nothing 
but  a  fine  black  powder  is  left  In  the  meantime  the 
sumac  leaves  and  twigs  are  being  boiled,  five  or  six 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     167 

hours  being  required  to  fully  extract  the  juices.  When 
both  are  somewhat  cooled  they  are  mixed,  and  almost 
immediately  a  rich  bluish-black  fluid  is  formed. 

For  yellow  dye  the  tops  of  a  flowering  weed  (Big- 
elovia  graveolens)  are  boiled  for  several  hours  until 
the  liquid  assumes  a  deep  yellow  color.  As  soon  as 
the  dyer  deems  the  extraction  of  the  color  juices  nearly 
complete,  she  takes  some  native  alum  (almogen)  and 
heats  it  over  the  fire,  and,  when  it  becomes  pasty, 
gradually  adds  it  to  the  boiling  decoction,  which  slowly 
becomes  of  the  required  yellow  color. 

The  brick-red  dye  is  extracted  from  the  bark  and 
roots  of  the  sumac,  and  ground  black  alder  bark,  with 
the  ashes  of  the  juniper  as  a  mordant  She  now  im- 
merses the  wool  and  allows  it  to  remain  in  the  dye 
from  half  an  hour  to  an  hour. 

Whence  come  the  designs  incorporated  by  these 
simple  weavers  into  their  blankets,  sashes,  and  dresses? 
In  this,  as  in  basketry  and  pottery,  the  answer  is  found 
in  nature.  Indeed,  many  of  their  textile  designs  sug- 
gest a  derivation  from  basketry  ornamentation  (which 
originally  came  from  nature),  "as  the  angular,  curveless 
figures  of  interlaying  plaits  predominate,  and  the  prin- 
cipal subjects  are  the  same  —  conventional  devices 
representing  clouds,  stars,  lightning,  the  rainbow,  and 
emblems  of  the  deities.  But  these  simple  forms  are 
produced  in  endless  combination  and  often  in  brilliant, 
kaleidoscopic  grouping,  presenting  broad  effects  of 
scarlet  and  black,  of  green,  yellow,  and  blue  upon 
scarlet,  and  wide  ranges  of  color  skilfully  blended  upon 
a  ground  of  white.  The  centre  of  the  fabric  is  fre- 
quently occupied  with  tessellated  or  lozenge  patterns 
of  multi-colored  sides,  or  divided  into  panels  of  con- 


1 68       THE    INDIANS   OF   THE 

trasting  colors  in  which  different  designs  appear ;  some 
display  symmetric  zigzags,  converging  and  spreading 
throughout  their  length ;  in  others,  bands  of  high  color 
are  defined  by  zones  of  neutral  tints,  or  parted  by 
thin,  bright  lines  into  a  checkered  mosaic,  and  in  many 
only  the  most  subdued  shades  appear.  Fine  effects  are 
obtained  by  using  a  soft,  gray  wool  in  its  natural  state, 
to  form  the  body  of  the  fabric  in  solid  color,  upon 
which  figures  in  orange  and  scarlet  are  introduced ;  also 
in  those  woven  in  narrow  stripes  of  black  and  deep 
blue,  having  the  borders  relieved  in  bright  tinted 
meanders  along  the  sides  and  ends,  or  with  a  central 
colored  figure  in  the  dark  body,  with  the  design 
repeated  in  a  diagonal  panel  at  each  corner. 

"The  greatest  charm,  however,  of  these  primitive 
fabrics,  is  the  unrestrained  freedom  shown  by  the 
weaver  in  her  treatment  of  primitive  conventions.  To 
the  checkered  emblem  of  the  rainbow  she  adds  sweeping 
rays  of  color,  typifying  sunbeams;  below  the  many- 
angled  cloud  group,  she  inserts  random  pencil  lines  of 
rain ;  or  she  softens  the  rigid  meander,  signifying  light- 
ning, with  graceful  interlacing,  and  shaded  tints.  Not 
confining  herself  alone  to  these  traditional  devices,  she 
invents  her  own  methods  to  introduce  curious,  realistic 
figures  of  common  objects,  —  her  grass  brush,  wooden 
weaving  fork,  a  stalk  of  corn,  a  bow,  an  arrow,  or  a 
plume  of  feathers  from  a  dancer's  mask.  Thus,  al- 
though the  same  characteristic  styles  of  weaving  and 
decoration  are  general,  yet  none  of  the  larger  designs 
are  ever  reproduced  with  mechanical  exactness;  each 
fabric  carries  some  distinct  variation,  some  suggestion 
of  the  occasion  of  its  making,  woven  into  form  as  the 
fancy  arose." 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION    169 

I  have  thus  quoted  from  an  unpublished  manuscript 
of  one  of  the  greatest  Navaho  authorities  of  the  United 
States  —  Mr.  A.  M.  Stephen  —  in  order  to  confirm  my 
own  oft-repeated  and  sometimes  challenged  statements 
that  the  Navaho  weaver  finds  in  nature  her  designs,  and 
that  in  most  of  her  better  blankets  there  is  woven  "  some 
suggestion  of  the  occasion  of  its  making." 

This  imitative  faculty  is,  par  excellence,  the  controlling 
force  in  aboriginal  decoration  so  far  as  I  know  the 
Amerind  of  the  Southwest. 

With  many  of  the  younger  women,  submission  to  the 
imitative  faculty  in  weaving  is  becoming  an  injury  in- 
stead of  a  blessing.  Instead  of  looking  to  nature  for 
their  models,  or  finding  pleasure  in  the  religious  sym- 
bolism of  the  older  weavers,  they  have  sunk  into  a  lazy, 
apathetic  disregard,  and  they  slavishly  and  carelessly 
imitate  the  work  of  their  elders.  This  is  growingly 
true,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  with  both  basket  makers  and 
blanket  weavers.  On  my  recent  trips  I  have  come  in 
contact  with  many  fair  specimens,  both  in  basketry  and 
blanketry,  and  when  I  have  asked  for  an  explanation  of 
the  design  the  reply  has  been :  "  Me  no  sabe !  I  make 
'em  all  same  old  basket,  or  all  same  old  Navaho  blanket." 
Here  is  perversion  of  the  true  imitative  faculty  which 
sought  its  pure  and  original  inspiration  from  nature. 

It  will  not  be  out  of  place  here  to  correct  a  few  general 
misapprehensions  in  regard  to  the  older  and  more  valu- 
able Navaho  blankets.  These  erroneous  ideas  are 
partly  the  result  of  the  misstatements  of  an  individual 
who  sought  thereby  to  enhance  the  value  of  his  own 
collection. 

It  is  true  that  good  bayeta  blankets  are  comparatively 
rare,  but  they  are  far  more  common  than  he  would  have 


170       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

his  readers  believe.  The  word  "  bayeta  "  is  nothing  but 
the  simple  Spanish  for  the  English  baize,  and  is  spelled 
bayeta,  and  not  "  balleta  "  or  "  vayeta."  It  is  a  bright 
red  baize  with  a  long  nap,  made  especially  in  England 
for  Spanish  trade  (not  Turkish,  as  this  "  expert "  claims), 
and  by  the  Spanish  and  Mexicans  sold  to  the  Indians. 
Up  to  as  late  as  1893  bayeta  blankets  were  being  made 
plentifully.  Since  then  comparatively  few  have  been 
made.  The  bayeta  was  a  regular  article  of  commerce, 
and  could  be  purchased  at  any  good  wholesale  house  in 
New  York.  It  was  generally  sold  by  the  rod,  and  not  by 
the  pound.  The  duty  now  is  so  high  that  its  importation 
is  practically  prohibited,  it  being,  I  believe,  about  sixty 
per  cent.  And  yet  I  am  personally  acquainted  with 
several  weavers  who  will  imitate  perfectly,  in  bayeta,  any 
blanket  ever  woven,  and  that  the  native  dyes  for  other 
colors  will  be  used.  We  are  told  that  an  Indian  woman 
will  not  take  the  time  to  weave  blankets  such  as  were 
made  in  the  olden  time.  I  have  several  that  took  nine, 
twelve,  and  thirteen  months  to  make,  and  if  the  pay  is 
good  enough  any  weaver  will  work  on  a  blanket  a  year, 
or  even  two  years,  if  necessary.  The  length  of  time 
makes  no  difference,  as  several  traders  in  Indian  blankets 
can  vouch.  Indeed,  it  would  be  quite  possible  to  obtain 
the  perfect  reproduction  of  any  blanket  in  existence, 
which  would  be  satisfactory  to  any  board  of  genuine 
experts,  the  only  differences  between  the  new  and  the 
ancient  blankets  being  those  inseparable  from  newness 
and  age. 

While  bayeta  blankets  are  not  common  by  any  means, 
they  aggregate  many  scores  in  the  mass,  and  are  to  be 
found  in  many  collections,  both  East  and  West.  It  is 
a  difficult  matter  to  even  suggest  in  a  photograph  or  an 


AN  AGED  NAVAHO  AND  HER  HOGAN. 


\  •#•:. .- 

.V  *"f       -  ^~— -a—'  -%a_ 


NAVAHO  FAMILY  AND  HOGAN  IN  THE  PAINTED  DESERT. 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     171 

engraving  any  idea  of  the  beauty  and  charm  of  one  of 
these  old  Navaho  blankets. 

It  will  be  observed  that  I  have  written  as  if  the  major 
portion  of  the  weaving  of  Navaho  blankets  was  done 
by  the  women.  Dr.  Matthews,  however,  writing  in  or 
before  1881,  says  that  "there  are  ...  a  few  men  who 
practise  the  textile  art,  and  among  them  are  to  be  found 
the  best  artisans  of  the  tribe."  Of  these  men  but  one 
or  two  are  now  alive,  if  any,  and  I  have  seen  one  only 
who  still  does  the  weaving. 

In  late  years  a  few  Navaho  weavers  have  invented 
a  method  of  weaving  a  blanket  both  sides  of  which  are 
different.  The  Salish  stock  of  Indians  make  baskets 
the  designs  of  which  on  the  inside  are  different  from 
those  on  the  outside,  but  this  is  done  by  a  simple  proc- 
ess of  imbrication,  easy  to  understand,  which  affords 
no  key  to  a  solution  of  the  double-faced  Navaho  blanket. 
I  have  purchased  two  or  three  such  blankets,  but  as  yet 
have  not  found  a  weaver  who  would  show  me  the  proc- 
ess of  weaving.  Dr.  Matthews  thinks  this  new  inven- 
tion cannot  date  farther  back  than  1893,  as  prior  to  that 
time  Mr.  Thomas  V.  Keam,  the  oldest  trader  with  the 
Navahoes,  had  never  seen  one.  Yet  one  collector  de- 
clares he  had  one  as  far  back  as  fifteen  years  ago. 

In  addition  to  the  products  of  the  vertical  loom  the 
Navaho  and  also  the  Pueblo  women  weave  a  variety  of 
smaller  articles  of  wear,  all  of  which  are  remarkable  for 
their  strength  and  durability  as  well  as  for  their  striking 
designs. 


1 72       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE  WALLAPAIS 

IT  is  hard  to  conceive  of  a  people,  numbering  nearly 
a  thousand  souls,  lodged  within  the  borders  of  the 
United  States,  of  whom  nothing  has  been  written.  The 
only  references  to  the  Wallapais  are  to  be  found  in 
the  casual  remarks  of  travellers  or  soldiers,  and  later,  the 
agent's  reports  to  the  Commissioner  of  Indian  Affairs. 
Perhaps  the  earliest  reference  to  them  is  in  Padre  Garces* 
Diary,  where,  in  describing  the  Mohaves,  he  says  the 
Wallapais  (spelling  the  name  Jaguallapais)  are  their 
enemies  on  the  east.  Then,  on  leaving  the  Mohaves 
and  journeying  east,  he  himself  reaches  the  tribe  in  the 
neighborhood  of  where  the  town  of  Kingman  now 
stands.  Six  miles  northwest  of  Kingman  are  located 
Beale's  Springs,  which  pour  forth  the  best  supply  of 
water  in  the  whole  region ;  hence  it  was  natural  that  the 
Wallapais  should  have  established  their  homes  near  it. 
In  the  Wallapai  Origin  Legend  the  story  of  their  disper- 
sion to  this  region  is  told.  The  Wallapai  Mountains  are 
close  by,  a  few  miles  to  the  southeast,  and  from  the 
pines  of  these  mountains  they  get  their  name ;  "  Wal-la," 
tall  pine ;  "  pai,"  people,  —  the  people  of  the  tall  pine.1 

Garces  says  the  people  received  him  hospitably  and 
"  conducted  themselves  with  me  as  comported  with  the 

1  There  are  several  other  fair  springs  in  the  vicinity,  chiefly  Johnson's 
to  the  north  of  Kingman,  and  Gentile  Springs,  below  the  pass  through 
which  the  Santa  Fe  railway  enters  Sacramento  Valley. 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     173 

affection  that  I  had  shown  toward  them."  Their  dress 
was  antelope  skins  and  "  some  shirts  of  Mold,"  doubtless 
the  cotton  woven  shirts  of  these  primitive  weavers. 

Lieutenant  Ives,  in  his  interesting  report  of  his  early 
explorations  in  this  region,  describes  the  Wallapais  in 
Peach  Springs  and  Diamond  Canyons,  another  of  their 
favored  locations,  and  Captain  Bourke  in  his  "  On  the 
Border  with  Crook  "  makes  passing  mention  of  them. 

On  January  4,  1883,  President  Arthur  decreed  the 
following  as  their  reservation :  — 

"  It  is  hereby  ordered  that  the  following-described  tract  of 
country  situated  in  the  Territory  of  Arizona  be,  and  the  same  is 
hereby,  set  aside  and  reserved  for  the  use  and  occupancy  of  the 
Hualapai  Indians,  namely :  Beginning  at  a  point  on  the  Colo- 
rado River  five  miles  eastward  of  Tinnakah  Spring ;  thence  south 
twenty  miles  to  crest  of  high  mesa ;  thence  south  forty  degrees 
east  twenty-five  miles  to  a  point  of  Music  Mountains ;  thence 
east  fifteen  miles ;  thence  north  fifty  degrees  east  thirty-five 
miles  ;  thence  north  thirty  miles  to  the  Colorado  River ;  thence 
along  said  river  to  the  place  of  beginning ;  the  southern  boun- 
dary being  at  least  two  miles  south  of  Peach  Spring,  and  the 
eastern  boundary  at  least  two  miles  east  of  Pine  Spring.  All 
bearings  and  distances  being  approximate. 

"  CHESTER  A.  ARTHUR." 

Owing  to  the  abundant  supply  of  water  at  Beale's 
Springs  the  settlement  there  naturally  became  a  stop- 
ping-place for  all  travel  across  that  portion  of  Arizona. 
It  was  the  favorite  camping-place  of  the  wagons  travel- 
ling between  Fort  Mohave  and  Fort  Whipple,  near 
Phcenix.  Johnson's  and  Gentile  Springs  also  being  in 
line,  and  the  pass  just  below  Kingman  leading  into  the 
Sacramento  Valley  being  the  most  natural  outlet  for  a  rail- 
way, the  building  of  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific,  by  which 


174       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

name  the  section  of  the  great  Santa  Fe  transcontinental 
system  which  extends  from  Albuquerque,  New  Mexico, 
to  Barstow,  California,  was  originally  known  —  found 
the  Wallapais  and  at  once  put  them  in  contact  with  the 
outside  world  and  our  civilization.  Unfortunately  the 
actual  builders  of  a  railway  and  their  followers  do  not 
always  represent  the  best  elements  of  our  civilization, 
and  the  meeting  in  this  case  was  decidedly  against  the 
best  interests  of  the  Wallapais.  Close  proximity,  also, 
to  a  border  mining  town,  such  as  Kingman,  has  not 
tended  to  the  elevation  of  the  morals  or  ideals  of  the 
Wallapais,  and  in  a  short  time  many  of  those  who  re- 
sided near  the  railways  became  known  for  their  degra- 
dation. The  men  yielded  to  the  white  men's  vices  and 
soon  inducted  their  women  into  the  same  courses,  so 
that  for  a  long  period  of  years  the  name  Wallapai 
seemed  to  be  almost  synonymous  with  drunkenness, 
gambling,  wild  orgies,  and  the  utmost  degradation.  In 
those  days  it  was  no  uncommon  sight  to  see  as  many  as 
twenty  men,  women,  and  children  lying  around  drunk 
in  either  Kingman  or  Hackberry,  and  I  have  personal 
knowledge  of  several  cases  where  fathers  took  their 
daughters  and  sold  them  to  white  men,  into  a  bondage 
infinitely  worse  and  more  degrading  than  slavery. 

Of  late  years  this  condition  has  been  largely  improved. 
When  the  government  schools  were  established  and  a 
field  matron  sent  to  work  with  the  Wallapais,  new 
elements  of  our  civilization  were  introduced  to  these 
unfortunates,  and  nobly  they  have  responded.  With  few 
exceptions  they  are  now  industrious,  sober,  honest,  and 
reliable. 

The  Wallapais  are  of  Yuman  stock.  In  appearance 
they  more  nearly  resemble  the  Mohaves  found  at  Parker, 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION      175 

on  the  reservation,  than  any  other  of  the  peoples  in  the 
immediate  region.  They  have  the  same  stout,  sturdy, 
fleshy  build,  heavy  faces,  and  general  habits,  though  in 
many  respects  they  are  a  different  people.  They  regard 
the  Havasupais  as  their  cousins,  and  the  speech  of  the 
two  peoples  is  very  similar.  Indeed  any  person  who 
can  speak  the  one  can  easily  be  understood  by  one 
who  speaks  the  other. 

According  to  their  traditions,  it  was  one  of  the  mythi- 
cal heroes  of  the  Wallapais  —  Pach-i-tha-a-wi  —  who 
made  the  Grand  Canyon.  There  had  been  a  big  flood 
and  the  earth  was  covered  with  water.  No  one  could 
stir  but  Pach-i-tha-a-wi,  and  he  went  forth  carrying  a  big 
knife  he  had  prepared  of  flint,  and  a  large,  heavy  wooden 
club.  He  struck  the  knife  deep  into  the  water-covered 
ground  and  then  smote  it  deeper  and  deeper  with  his  club. 
He  moved  it  back  and  forth  as  he  struck  it  further  into  the 
earth,  until  the  canyon  was  formed  through  which  all  the 
water  rushed  out  into  the  Sea  of  the  Sunset.  Then,  as 
the  sun  shone,  the  ground  became  hard  and  solid  as  we 
find  it  to-day. 

In  physical  appearance  the  Wallapais  are  a  far  coarser 
and  heavier  type  than  the  Navahoes.  They  are  medium 
in  height,  small-boned,  and  fat.  Their  features  are 
heavy  and  coarse.  The  nose  is  flat  between  the  eyes 
and  broad  at  the  base,  and  the  nostrils  large,  denoting 
good  lung  power  and  capacity.  The  septum  is  very  large 
and  heavy.  The  cheek-bones  generally  are  high  and 
prominent,  and  the  chin  well  rounded,  rather  than  square, 
like  that  of  most  of  the  Navahoes.  Their  shoulders  are 
broad,  with  head  set  close  in.  Seldom  is  a  long-necked 
man  or  woman  seen.  The  upper  lips  are  full  and  the 
under  ones  thick,  with  a  slight  droop  at  the  corners. 


176       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

The  eyes  are  large  and  limpid,  brown  or  black,  and 
capable  of  great  seriousness  or  merry  sparklings. 
The  foreheads  are  narrow,  rounding  off  on  each  side. 
The  heads  are  round  without  any  great  fulness  of  the 
back  regions.  Most  of  them  have  good  teeth,  white 
and  strong,  though  the  use  of  white  men's  coffee,  bak- 
ing powder,  and  other  demoralizing  foods  and  drinks, 
have  begun  to  work  appreciable  injury  to  them. 

The  women  generally  wear  their  hair  banged  over 
the  forehead,  so  that  the  eyebrows  are  almost  covered, 
and  the  rest  of  the  hair  is  cut  off  level  with  the  shoulders, 
so  that  a  well-combed  head  of  hair  falls  heavily  around 
the  whole  head,  covering  the  major  part  of  the  cheeks 
and  sides  of  the  chin.  I  once  made  an  interesting  dis- 
covery in  regard  to  this  almost  complete  covering  up  of 
the  face  with  the  hair.  I  wished  to  make  a  photograph 
of  a  woman  I  had  long  known  and  been  friendly  with. 
As  her  eyes  and  face  were  scarcely  distinguishable,  I  took 
the  liberty  of  putting  back  the  hair  from  her  cheeks. 
She  arose  in  anger,  and  for  three  years  refused  to  speak 
or  meet  me.  I  had  given  to  her  the  most  serious  insult 
a  man  could  offer  to  a  Wallapai  woman.  The  hair  is 
coarse,  thick,  and  black,  though  after  a  shampoo  with 
amole  root  it  is  silky  and  glossy.  The  men  tie  the 
"  banda "  around  the  forehead  and  seldom  wear  a  hat 
except  when  in  the  towns  of  the  white  men. 

As  a  rule  both  men  and  women  have  sweet  and  soft 
voices,  though  a  few  are  harsh  and  forbidding. 

The  tattoo  is  common.  The  work  is  done  with  pins, 
and  charcoal  is  rubbed  in  as  the  punctures  are  made. 
This  gives  a  bluish-black  appearance  which  is  perma- 
nent. They  also  paint  their  faces  in  red,  yellow,  and 
black.  The  chief  purpose  of  both  tattooing  and  paint- 


NAVAHO  WOMAN  ON  HORSEBACK. 


THE  WINNER  OF  THE  "  GALLO  "  RACE  AT  TOHATCHI. 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION      177 

ing  is  to  enhance  their  beauty,  though  there  are  times 
when  the  tattooing  has  a  distinct  significance. 

In  school  the  boys  and  girls  are  slow  but  sure  in  their 
learning.  They  read,  write,  spell,  and  figure  with  accu- 
racy and  speed,  and  compare  favorably  with  white 
children  in  the  rapidity  of  their  progress.  Most  of  the 
schoolgirls  are  heavily  built  and  coarse,  —  indeed,  all  but 
two  children,  the  daughters  of  Bi-cha  (commonly 
called  Beecher),  who  are  slim  and  slight. 

In  another  chapter  I  have  explained  the  charge  that 
Wallapai  parents  were  unkind,  even  cruel  to  their 
children.  That  charge  can  no  longer  be  maintained. 
They  are  kindness  itself,  as  a  rule,  and  from  babyhood 
up  the  children  receive  all  the  care  of  which  the  parents 
deem  them  needful.  Some  of  their  babes  are  as  chubby 
and  pretty  and  sweet-tempered  as  any  I  have  ever 
seen,  and  much  fun  have  I  had  in  photographing  those 
who  were  especially  attractive  to  me.  One  mother 
enjoyed  my  appreciation  of  her  offspring  and  was  most 
good-natured  in  yielding  to  my  desire  to  often  photo- 
graph her.  The  little  one  would  coo  and  laugh  and 
kick  her  little  feet  and  legs  in  merriment,  or  go  to 
sleep  in  my  or  her  mother's  arms,  or  even  when  stand- 
ing up  in  her  wicker  cradle.  When  I  hung  her  up  upon 
the  wall  she  soberly  looked  at  me,  but  made  no  demon- 
stration of  fear.  Her  mother,  however,  looked  to  see 
what  I  was  doing.  I  bade  her  gaze  upon  her  child,  and 
the  merry  laugh  she  gave  would  have  been  an  astonish- 
ment to  those  who  regard  the  Indian  as  dull,  stolid, 
expressionless. 

Indeed  one  of  the  most  laughing  merry  sprites  it  has 
ever  been  my  good  fortune  to  know  is  a  Wallapai 
maiden  of  some  eighteen  years.  Seldom  is  she  seen 


12 


178       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

any  other  way  than  smiling  or  cheerily  laughing.  She 
is  a  perfect  witch  for  mischief  and  practical  jokes,  and  is 
never  so  happy  as  when  she  can  perpetrate  one  upon  a 
white  man  whom  she  can  trust.  In  that  word  "  trust  " 
lies  the  whole  key  to  the  demeanor  of  an  Indian, 
either  man,  woman,  or  child,  towards  a  white  person. 
If  you  are  trusted  the  whole  inner  life  is  left  open  as  a 
clear  page ;  if  not,  the  book  is  closed,  locked,  sealed,  and 
the  key  thrown  away. 

I  had  long  wished  to  photograph  the  Wallapais,  but 
they  had  always  objected.  When  I  arrived  at  Kingman 
I  sent  Pu-chil-ow-a,  the  interpreter  and  policeman,  to 
call  a  powwow.  I  sent  an  express  invitation  to  the 
chiefs,  Serum,  Leve-leve,  Sus-quat-i-mi,  and  Qua-su-la. 
Serum  was  away  at  Mineral  Park  with  a  band  of  Walla- 
pais whose  services  he  farms  out  to  the  mine  owners, 
Leve-leve  was  sick  and  not  expected  to  live,  but  Sus- 
quat-i-mi  and  Quasula  would  come. 

We  were  permitted  to  use  the  schoolhouse,  and  just 
about  sunset  I  was  busily  engaged  when  there  came  a 
loud  rap  at  the  door.  I  hastened  to  open  it,  and  there 
stood  a  dignified,  well-built,  slightly  bearded,  neatly 
dressed  man,  who  smiled  and  bowed  with  dignity  and 
courtesy.  He  wore  a  cap,  and  at  first  sight  looked 
more  like  a  retired  sea-captain  than  anything,  so  I  re- 
sponded to  his  bow  with  the  question  as  to  what  did  I 
owe  the  honor  of  his  visit. 

"  Why,  you  sent  for  me  !  "  he  replied. 

"  I  sent  for  you  ?    When  ?  " 

Then  he  heartily  laughed  and  exclaimed :  "  You  no 
sapogi  me  ?  I  'm  Sus-quat-i-mi,  Wallapai  Charley." 

To  say  I  was  surprised  was  to  put  it  mildly. 

Later  on  Quasula,  Big  Water  (Ha-jiv-a-ha),  Eagle 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     179 

Feather  (Sa-ka-lo-ka),  Acorn  Flour  (A-ti-na),  Coyote 
Eating  Fish-gut  (Ka-ha-cha-va),  and  other  leading  men 
came,  and  we  had  quite  an  interesting  meeting.  I  stated 
to  them  my  object  in  coming:  "There  are  many  of 
your  white  brothers  who  live  between  the  Great  Waters 
of  the  Sunrise  and  Sunset  who  wish  to  know  more  of 
their  red-faced  brothers  of  the  Painted  Desert.  I  have 
come  for  years  among  you  to  find  out  and  to  tell  them. 
When  I  speak  of  Quasula  they  ask  me  to  tell  what  he 
looks  like,  and  I  tell  them  as  well  as  I  can,  but  if  I 
could  show  them  a  sun-picture  they  would  know  so 
much  better  than  my  words  make  clear.  So  I  wish  you 
no  longer  to  be  as  children  and  babes.  I  have  made  the 
sun-pictures  of  Navahoes,  Hopis,  Havasupais,  Apaches, 
Pimas,  Acomas,  Paiutis,  and  others ;  why  should  I  not 
make  yours?" 

When  they  presented  their  superstitions,  I  reasoned 
against  them,  and  finally  Quasula  settled  the  whole 
matter  in  my  favor  by  rising  and  saying  with  great 
dignity :  "  We  have  heard  our  brother  with  the  white 
face  and  black  beard.  He  speaks  in  one  way,  —  not  in 
two  ways  at  once.  His  words  breathe  truth.  We  need 
not  fear  the  sun-picture.  I  will  go  to  him  to-morrow 
and  he  shall  make  as  many  sun-pictures  of  me  and  my 
family  as  he  desires.  I  want  him  to  be  able  to  tell  to 
our  white  brothers  who  live  by  the  Sunrise  Sea  all  he 
has  learned  of  us.  We  are  a  poor,  ignorant  people,  we 
are  few  and  do  not  know  much.  The  white  men  are 
many  and  they  know  as  much  as  they  are  many.  Let 
them  send  more  people  to  teach  us  and  our  children 
and  we  will  gladly  welcome  them.  Some  of  our  people 
have  been  bad.  Bad  white  men  have  made  them  worse. 
We  want  the  bad  men  to  be  kept  away,  but  we  will 


i8o       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

welcome  good  white  men,  and  our  children  shall  learn 
from  them  and  be  wise. 

Then  Sus-quat-i-mi  arose,  and  in  heavy  and  some- 
what pompous  speech  said:  "  Many  years  ago  our 
white  brother  made  my  sun-picture  at  Peach  Springs. 
He  has  eaten  tunas,  mescal,  pinion  nuts,  and  corn  at  my 
hawa.  We  have  slept  side  by  side  under  the  same 
stars,  and  the  same  wind  has  played  with  his  beard  and 
my  hair.  I  know  him.  He  knows  me.  His  words  are 
straight.  When  he  made  my  sun-picture  he  said  it 
would  do  me  no  harm,  and  here  I  am,  after  several 
snows,  and  I  am  as  well  as  ever.  He  shall  make  more 
sun-pictures  of  me  to-morrow,  and  I  will  sing  for  him 
and  dance  the  war-dance  of  my  people." 

Big  Water  and  the  others  followed  and  my  aim  was 
accomplished.  Next  morning  we  set  forth, — Puchilowa, 
my  friend  and  photographer,  Mr.  C.  C.  Pierce,  of  Los 
Angeles,  and  myself,  —  laden  down  with  four  cameras 
and  an  abundance  of  plates  and  films.  We  succeeded 
in  getting  many  photographs,  some  of  which  are  here 
reproduced.  But  at  one  camp,  an  old  woman,  the  grand- 
mother, doubtless,  of  two  children  left  in  her  care,  re- 
fused to  be  pictured.  She  covered  herself  up  and  bade 
the  children  hide  their  faces,  but  their  curiosity  over- 
came their  fears  and  they  were  "  caught." 

Poor  old  Leve-leve  and  his  wife  were  found,  both  of 
them  nearly  blind,  in  their  miserable  hawa,  a  mile  or 
so  from  Kingman.  I  had  some  useful  medicament  for 
their  eyes,  and  although  it  hurt  dreadfully,  they  both 
patiently  bore  the  pain  while  I  gave  their  eyes  treat- 
ment. By  the  side  of  the  old  man  was  his  gourd  rattle, 
which  the  shaman  had  left  to  help  him  drive  away  sick- 
ness, and  for  hours  the  old  man  sat  quietly  singing  and 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     181 

rattling,  endeavoring  to  get  rid  of  the  evil  powers  that 
were  cursing  him.  While  I  made  a  picture  of  him  in 
the  dark  hut,  his  wife  went  into  an  inner  room  and  soon 
returned  clad  in  an  elaborately  fringed  apron  of  buckskin. 
This  was  her  ceremonial  costume,  made  by  Leve-leve  for 
her  as  the  mother  of  the  tribe,  when  she  led  the  annual 
dance  of  thanksgiving  for  the  corn  and  melon  harvest. 

Sus-quat-i-mi  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  I  not 
only  secured  some  excellent  photographs  of  him,  but  he 
sang  for  me  into  the  graphophone  some  of  his  ceremo- 
nial songs. 

The  Wallapais'  war-song  is  a  stirring  and  exciting  one, 
and  it  conveys  us  back  to  the  days  when  their  primitive 
weapons  were  in  use.  After  an  incitation  to  anger 
against  the  foe  it  bids  the  warriors  "  get  rocks  and  tie 
them  up  in  buckskins ;  make  of  them  fierce  and  deadly 
battle-hammers,  with  which  smite  and  kill  your  foes. 
Take  the  horns  of  the  buck  and  sharpen  them,  and  with 
them  seek  the  hearts  of  your  enemies  with  blows  skilful 
and  strong." 

Puchilowa  sang  for  me  the  Wallapai  song  on  the 
death  of  their  chiefs.  It  is  a  weird,  mournful  melody, 
which,  however,  I  have  not  yet  had  time  and  opportu- 
nity to  transcribe  from  the  graphophone.  It  says :  "  Our 
chief,  our  father,  our  friend,  is  dead.  His  voice  is  silent, 
his  tread  is  silent.  Come  together,  ye  his  friends,  and 
cry  about  with  sorrow.  Burn  up  his  body  that  his 
spirit  may  go  to  the  world  of  spirits.  Burn  up  his  house 
that  his  spirit  may  not  long  to  stay  around.  Burn  up 
all  his  possessions  that  they  may  be  with  him  in  the 
spirit  world.  Then  let  no  one  to  whom  he  belonged 
stay  near  the  place  where  he  died.  Move  away,  that 
his  spirit  may  feel  nothing  to  keep  him  to  the  earth." 


1 82       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

Hence  it  will  be  seen  that  the  Wallapai  is  naturally  a 
believer  in  cremation.  Indeed  he  still  practises  the 
burning  of  his  dead,  except  where  white  influences  are 
brought  to  bear.  These  influences  are  not  altogether 
a  perfect  good.  There  is  no  harm  in  burning  the  dead, 
but,  unfortunately,  the  general  Indian  belief  is  that  the 
goods  of  the  deceased,  his  horses,  his  guns,  his  clothes, 
—  indeed,  all  his  personal  possessions,  and  the  gifts  of  his 
friends,  —  should  also  be  burned  to  accompany  him  to 
the  spirit  world.  If  this  destruction  of  valuable  property 
could  be  arrested  without  interfering  with  the  corporeal 
cremation,  it  would  be  a  good  thing. 

The  thanksgiving  song  for  harvest,  though  purely 
Indian,  is  a  much  more  cheerful  melody.  Puchilowa 
gave  me  the  words,  as  well  as  sang  the  song  in  the 
graphophone,  but  he  was  unable  to  tell  what  the  words 
meant.  "  The  old  Indians  gave  me  this  song  long  time 
ago.  I  sing  it  all  'a  time  at  harvest.  I  no  sapogi  (under- 
stand) what  it  means." 

"  Ho  si  a  ya  ma, 
In  ya  a  sonk  a  kit  a, 
In  ya  va  va  vam 
Ho  si  a  ya  ma 
Inyahasakakita," 

etc.,  ad  infinitum. 

There  are  three  native  policemen,  engaged  by  the 
Indian  department,  among  the  Wallapais,  —  Puchilowa, 
(Jim  Fielding),  at  Truxton ;  Su-jin'-i-mi  (Indian  Jack), 
at  Kingman ;  and  Wa-wa-ti'-chi-mi,  at  Chloride.  Each 
receives  ten  dollars  per  month  for  his  services.  It  was 
the  former  who  acted  as  interpreter  during  my  last  visit 

I  had  just  finished  making  the  photographs  of  Quasula 
and  one  or  two  others,  when  an  old  woman  and  her 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     183 

husband  came  in  from  the  desert.  As  he  sat  waiting 
for  me  to  photograph  him,  he  took  some  prickly  pears 
from  his  bundle  and  began  to  eat  them.  I  had  often 
seen  tourists  from  the  East  fill  their  fingers  with  the 
almost  invisible  and  countless  spines  of  the  prickly  pear, 
so  I  asked  At-e-e  how  he  gathered  them.  Picking  up 
a  stick,  he  sharpened  one  end,  thrust  it  into  his  fruit, 
and,  as  if  it  were  still  on  the  tree,  chopped  it  off  with 
his  knife.  Now,  still  holding  it  on  the  stick,  he  peeled 
it  and  then  handed  it  to  me  to  eat.  It  is  a  slightly 
sweet  and  acid  fruit,  dainty  enough  in  flavor,  but  so 
crowded  with  annoying  small  seeds  as  not  to  pay  for  the 
trouble  of  separating  them. 

Elsewhere  I  have  described  the  method  of  making 
fire  with  the  drill.  While  talking  with  Atee,  to 
whom  I  had  given  some  tobacco  which  he  twisted 
into  a  cigarette,  he  suddenly  asked  me  for  a  match.  I 
said  I  would  give  him  a  boxful  if  he  would  make 
a  fire  without  a  match.  In  a  minute  he  set  to  work. 
He  borrowed  the  walking  cane  of  Puchilowa,  which 
had  just  the  right  kind  of  end  to  it,  and  then,  get- 
ing  a  piece  of  softer,  half- rotten  but  very  dry  wood,  he 
bored  a  small  hole  in  it.  Now,  taking  the  stick,  he 
placed  the  end  of  it  into  the  hole,  and  then,  rubbing 
the  stick  between  his  hands,  he  made  it  revolve  so  rap- 
idly that  in  a  minute  or  less  a  slight  smoke  could  be 
seen  in  the  hole  where  the  end  of  the  stick  was  revolv- 
ing. Stopping  for  just  a  moment,  he  got  some  dry  punk 
and  put  it  into  the  hole  and  around  the  end  of  the 
stick  and  began  to  twirl  it  again,  at  the  same  time 
gently  blowing  on  the  punk.  In  less  time  than  it  takes 
me  to  write  it  he  had  got  a  spark.  This  he  blew  gently 
until  it  became  two,  or  three  and  more,  and  then  with 


1 84       THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 

a  few  pieces  of  shredded  cedar  bark  he  picked  up  the 
sparks,  blew  them  more  and  more  until  the  bark  was 
ignited,  and  in  five  minutes  he  had  a  good  camp-fire. 

Mescal  is  one  of  the  chief  native  foods  of  both  Walla- 
pais  and  Havasupais.  They  call  it  vi-yal.  It  is  made 
in  winter,  when  the  plant  is  fullest  of  moisture.  It  is 
a  species  of  cactus  that  is  treated  as  follows :  A  sharp 
stick  is  thrust  into  the  plant  to"  see  if  it  is  soft  and  moist 
enough.  Then  the  outer  leaves  are  ,  cut  off  until  the 
white,  pulpy,  and  fibrous  masses  inside  are  exposed. 
This  is  the  part  used.  It  is  cooked  in  large  pits,  ten  or 
more  feet  in  diameter.  A  hole  is  dug  in  the  ground,  or 
better  still,  in  a  mass  of  rocky  debris.  Plenty  of  wood 
is  laid  in  the  hole,  and  this  covered  over  with  small 
pieces  of  rock  upon  which  the  material  to  be  cooked  is 
placed  four  or  five  feet  high.  This,  in  turn,  is  also 
covered  with  small  stones,  grass,  and  dirt  to  keep  in  the 
heat.  The  wood  is  then  fired  and  allowed  to  burn  for 
two  or  more  days.  Then  the  dirt  and  grass  are  taken 
off,  and  if  the  mass  has  cooked  brown  it  is  removed, 
piled  upon  flat  rocks,  and  then  pounded  by  the  women 
into  big  flat  sheets,  three  or  four  feet  wide  and  twice  as 
long.  Exposure  in  the  sun  rapidly  dries  it,  when  it  is 
folded  up  into  two  or  three  feet  lengths,  taken  home, 
and  stored  for  winter  use. 

Sometimes  the  mescal  is  pounded  and  eaten  raw,  and 
again  it  is  pounded,  soaked  in  plenty  of  water,  partially 
fermented,  and  the  liquor  used  as  a  drink. 

The  fruit  of  the  tuna  (a-te-e)  is  sometimes  pounded 
and  rolled  into  a  large  mass,  dried,  and  put  away  for 
future  use.  Thus  prepared  it  will  keep  for  a  long  time, 
very  dften  being  brought  out  a  year  after,  when  the  new 
crop  is  nearly  ripe. 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     185 

Other  natural  vegetable  foods  of  the  Wallapais  are 
a  black  grass  seed  (a-gua-va),  white  grass  seed  (i-eh-la), 
the  acorn  and  the  pinion  nut  (o-co-o). 

The  shamans  and  others  sometimes  take  the  jimson- 
weed  (smal-a-ga-to'-a),  pound  it  up,  soak  it,  and  drink 
the  decoction.  It  is  a  frightful  drink,  producing  results 
worse  than  whiskey.  For  a  time  the  debauchee  sees 
visions  and  dreams  drearrfs,  then  he  becomes  crazy  and 
frantic,  and  then,  exhausted,  tosses  in  a  quieter  delirium 
until  restored  to  his  senses,  to  be  nervously  racked  for 
days  afterwards.  The  Havasupais  are  so  bitter  against 
its  use  that  their  children  are  brought  up  to  regard  it 
as  one  of  the  most  dangerous  and  evil  of  plants. 

Until  Miss  Calfee,  of  the  Indian  Association,  was  sent 
to  work  among  the  Wallapais,  they  had  so  entirely 
neglected  the  art  of  basket  weaving  as  to  let  it  almost 
entirely  die  out  amongst  them;  By  her  endeavors, 
however,  it  has  been  resuscitated,  and  now  there  are 
quite  a  number  of  fairly  good  Wallapai  baskets  made. 
The*  inordinate  love  of  bright  colors  manifested  by  the 
average  white  tourist  —  note  I  say  tourist,  and  not 
Indian  —  is  so  completely  perverting  the  taste  of  the 
Wallapais  as  to  render  it  almost  impossible  to  buy  a 
basket  which  contains  only  the  primitive  colors.  These 
are  mainly  the  white  of  the  willow  and  the  black  of  the 
martynia.  A  straw-color,  a  yellow,  and  a  red  are  also 
native  with  them,  the  dyes  being  vegetable  and  mineral 
secured  from  plants,  roots,  and  rocks  close  at  hand. 
Some  of  the  younger  girls  have  set  themselves  to  learn 
the  art,  and  one  of  them  is  already  most  successful. 
She  is  a  bright  and  cheerful  maiden,  and  the  basket  she 
holds  in  her  lap  is  of  her  own  manufacture.  The  design 
is  worked  out  in  martynia.  It  represents  the  plateaus 


1 86       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

and  valleys  of  her  home,  and  the  inverted  pyramid  is 
the  tornado  or  cyclone.  It  is  her  prayer  to  Those  Above 
to  keep  the  cyclone  in  the  centre  of  the  plateaus  so  that 
no  injury  may  be  done  to  her  parents'  corn-fields,  melon- 
patches,  and  peach-trees  which  are  in  the  canyon  depths. 
The  Wallapais  have  had  the  same  trouble  about  the 
white  man  seizing  the  best  land  on  their  reservation 
that  most  other  tribes  have  been  subject  to.  When  the 
reserve  was  set  apart  by  executive  order  a  man  named 
Spencer  was  living  on  land  included  therein,  and  he 
claimed  two  of  the  finest  of  the  springs,  one,  that  of  Matta- 
weditita,  being  their  most  sacred  of  places.  He  was 
soon  murdered,  whether  by  Indians  or  whites  I  am 
unable  to  say,  and  no  one  occupied  these  springs  until 
a  man  named  W.  F.  Grounds,  regardless  of  the  execu- 
tive order,  took  possession  of,  and  claimed,  Mattawedi- 
tita  to  the  exclusion  of  the  Wallapais.  This  he  sold  to 
a  man  named  J.  W.  Munn.  Later  he  and  Munn  had 
quarrels  about  it  and  both  claimed  it.  Then  the  Indian 
Agent  interfered,  and,  finding  that  the  Indians  had  always 
claimed  it  as  their  own,  that  it  was  on  their  reserve, 
and  that  they  actually  wished  to  continue  to  cultivate 
it,  he  ordered  both  men  to  leave.  Grounds  had  about 
seventy-five  head  of  cattle  and  Munn  had  a  garden.  The 
latter  vacated  quietly,  but  Grounds  brought  back  his 
cattle  after  they  were  removed.  In  the  meantime  the 
Indians  had  planted  their  gardens,  and  when  the  cattle 
came  in  their  crops  were  speedily  demolished.  Again  the 
cattle  were  removed  and  again  brought  back.  About 
this  time  some  one  generously  gave  to  the  Indians,  or 
left  where  they  could  be  picked  up,  some  melons  or 
cucumbers  or  both,  of  which  fourteen  of  the  Wallapais 
living  in  Mattaweditita  Canyon  partook.  Of  the  four- 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     187 

teen,  thirteen  sickened  and  died.  Of  course  there  was 
no  way  of  fastening  this  dastardly  and  cowardly  crime 
upon  any  one,  but  whites  as  well  as  Indians  are  pretty 
generally  agreed  as  to  who  was  its  perpetrator. 

The  few  remaining  Indians  were  now  given  wire  to 
fence  in  the  canyon,  but  the  old  animals  of  Grounds' 
herds  pushed  the  wires  down  in  their  eagerness  to  get  to 
and  eat  the  Indians'  wheat.  The  trails  were  now  fenced, 
and  this  proved  an  effectual  bar.  Later  this  exemplary 
white  man  turned  a  band  of  saddle  horses  into  an  Indian's 
garden  on  the  reservation  for  pasturage.  This  brought 
upon  him  an  order  of  exclusion  from  the  reservation 
and  a  command  to  entirely  remove  his  stock  within 
a  year.  Whether  this  has  been  done  or  not  I  am  unable 
to  say,  although  the  Department  at  Washington  con- 
firmed the  order  and  required  that  it  be  done. 

During  all  this  squabbling  it  can  well  be  imagined 
how  the  crops  of  the  Indian  suffers ;  but  what  must  be 
his  conception  of  white  men,  their  government,  and  their 
justice  ? 


THE   INDIANS   OF  THE 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE   ADVENT   OF  THE  WALLAPAIS 

IN  the  days  of  the  long  ago,  when  the  world  was 
young,  there  emerged  from  Shi-pa-pu  two  gods,  who 
had  come  from  the  underworld,  named  To-cho-pa  and 
Ho-ko-ma-ta.  When  these  brothers  first  stood  upon 
the  surface  of  the  earth,  they  found  it  impossible  to 
move  around,  as  the  sky  was  pressed  down  close  to  the 
ground.  They  decided  that,  as  they  wished  to  remain 
upon  the  earth,  they  must  push  the  sky  up  into  place. 
Accordingly,  they  pushed  it  up  as  high  as  they  could 
with  their  hands,  and  then  got  long  sticks  and  raised  it 
still  higher,  after  which  they  cut  down  trees  and  pushed 
it  up  higher  still,  and  then,  climbing  the  mountains, 
they  forced  it  up  to  its  present  position,  where  it  is  out 
of  reach  of  all  human  kind,  and  incapable  of  doing  them 
any  injury. 

While  they  were  busy  with  their  labors,  another 
mythical  hero  appeared  on  the  scene,  on  the  north  side 
of  the  Grand  Canyon,  not  far  from  the  canyon  that  is 
now  known  as  Eldorado  Canyon.  Those  were  the 
"  days  of  the  old,"  when  the  animals  had  speech  even 
as  men,  and  in  many  things  were  wiser  than  men.  The 
Coyote  travelled  much  and  knew  many  things,  and  he 
became  the  companion  of  this  early-day  man,  and 
taught  him  of  his  wisdom.  This  gave  the  early  man 
his  name,  Ka-that-a-ka-na-ve,  which  means  "Told  or 
Taught  by  the  Coyote." 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     189 

For  long  they  lived  together,  until  the  man  began 
to  grow  lonesome.  He  no  longer  listened  to  the 
speech  of  the  Coyote,  and  that  made  the  animal  sad. 
He  wondered  what  could  be  done  to  bring  comfort  to 
his  human  friend,  and  at  length  suggested  that  he  con- 
sult Those  Above.  Kathat-a-kanave  was  lonesome  be- 
cause there  were  none  others  of  his  kind  to  talk  to. 
He  longed  for  human  beings,  so,  accepting  the  advice 
of  the  Coyote,  he  retired  to  where  he  could  speak  freely 
to  Those  Above  of  his  longings  and  desires.  He  was 
listened  to  with  attention,  and  there  told  that  nothing 
was  easier  than  that  other  men,  with  women,  should  be 
sent  upon  the  earth.  "  Build  a  stone  hawa  —  stone 
house  —  not  far  from  Eldorado  Canyon,  and  then  go 
down  to  where  the  waters  flow  and  cut  from  the  banks 
a  number  of  canes  or  sticks.  Cut  many,  and  of  six 
kinds.  Long  thick  sticks  and  long  thin  sticks;  me- 
dium-sized thick  sticks  and  medium-sized  thin  sticks; 
short  thick  sticks  and  short  thin  sticks.  Lay  these 
out  carefully  and  evenly  in  the  stone  hawa,  and  when 
the  darkest  hour  of  the  night  comes,  the  Powers  of 
the  Above  will  change  them  into  human  beings.  But, 
beware,  lest  any  sound  is  made.  No  voice  must  speak, 
or  the  power  will  cease  to  work." 

Gladly  Kathat-a-kanave  returned  to  the  stone  house, 
and  with  a  hearty  good-will  he  cut  many  canes  or 
sticks.  He  carried  them  to  the  house,  and  laid  them  out 
as  he  had  been  directed,  all  the  time  accompanied  by  the 
Coyote,  who  rejoiced  to  see  his  friend  so  cheerful  and 
happy.  Kathat-a-kanave  told  Coyote  what  was  to  occur, 
and  Coyote  rejoiced  in  the  wonderful  event  that  was 
about  to  take  place.  When  all  was  ready  Kathat-a- 
kanave  was  so  wearied  with  his  arduous  labors  that  he 


i9o       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

retired  to  lie  down  and  sleep,  and  bade  Coyote  watch 
and  be  especially  mindful  that  no  sound  of  any  kind 
whatever  issued  from  his  lips.  Coyote  solemnly  pledged 
himself  to  observe  the  commands,  —  he  would  not  cease 
from  watching,  and  not  a  sound  should  be  uttered. 
Feeling  secure  in  these  promises,  Kathat-a-kanave 
stretched  out  and  was  soon  sound  asleep.  Carefully 
Coyote  watched.  Darker  grew  the  night.  No  sound 
except  the  far-away  twho  !  twho  !  of  the  owl  disturbed 
the  perfect  stillness.  Suddenly  the  sticks  began  to 
move.  In  the  pitch  blackness  of  the  house  interior, 
Coyote  could  not  see  the  actual  change,  the  sudden 
appearing  of  feet  and  legs  and  hands  and  arms  and 
head,  and  the  uprising  of  the  sticks  into  perfect  men 
and  women,  but  in  a  few  moments  he  had  to  stand 
aside,  as  a  torrent  of  men,  women,  and  children  poured 
out  of  the  doorway.  Without  a  word,  but  thrilled  even 
to  the  tip  of  his  tail  with  delight,  he  examined  men, 
women,  youths,  maidens,  boys,  girls,  and  found  them  all 
beautifully  formed  and  physically  perfect.  Still  they 
came  through  the  door.  Several  times  he  found  him- 
self about  to  shout  for  joy,  but  managed  to  restrain 
his  feelings.  More  came,  and  as  they  looked  around 
them  on  the  wonderful  world  to  which  they  had  come 
from  nothingness,  and  expressed  their  astonishment 
(for  they  were  able  to  speak  from  the  first  moment), 
Coyote  became  wild  with  joy  and  could  resist  the  in- 
ward pressure  no  longer.  He  began  to  talk  to  the  new 
people,  and  to  laugh  and  dance  and  shout  and  bark 
and  yelp,  in  the  sheer  exuberance  of  his  delight.  How 
happy  he  was ! 

Then  there  came  an  ominous  stillness.     The  move- 
ments from  inside  the  house  ceased ;  no  more  humans 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     191 

appeared  at  the  doorway.  Almost  frozen  with  terror, 
Coyote  realized  what  he  had  done.  The  charm  had 
ceased.  Those  Above  were  angry  at  his  disobedience 
to  their  commands. 

When  Kathat-a-kanave  awoke  he  was  delighted  to 
see  the  noble  human  beings  Those  Above  had  sent  to 
him,  but  when  he  entered  the  hawa  his  delight  was 
changed  to  anger.  There  were  hundreds  more  sticks 
to  which  no  life  had  been  given.  Infuriated,  he  turned 
upon  Coyote  and  reproached  him  with  bitter  words  for 
failing  to  observe  his  injunction,  and  then,  with  fierce 
anger,  he  kicked  him  and  bade  him  begone !  His  tail 
between  his  legs,  his  head  bowed,  and  with  slinking 
demeanor,  Coyote  disappeared,  and  that  is  the  reason  all 
coyotes  are  now  so  cowardly,  and  never  appear  in  the 
presence  of  mankind  without  skulking  and  fear. 

As  soon  as  they  had  become  a  little  used  to  being  on 
the  earth,  Kathat-a-kanave  called  his  people  together 
and  informed  them  that  he  must  lead  them  to  their 
future  home.  They  came  down  Eldorado  Canyon, 
and  then  crossed  Hackataia  (the  Grand  Canyon)  and 
reached  a  small  but  picturesque  canyon  on  the  Wal- 
lapai  reservation,  called  Mat-ta-wed-it-i-ta.  This  is 
their  "  Garden  of  Eden."  Here  a  spring  of  water 
supplies  nearly  a  hundred  miners'  inches  of  water,  and 
there  are  about  a  hundred  acres  of  good  farming  land, 
lying  in  such  a  position  that  it  can  well  be  irrigated 
from  this  spring.  On  the  other  side  of  the  canyon  is 
a  cave  about  a  hundred  feet  wide  at  its  mouth,  and  . 
perched  fully  half  a  thousand  feet  above  the  valley. 

Now  Kathat-a-kanave  disappears  in  some  variants  of 
the  story,  and  Hokomata  and  Tochopa  take  his  place  at 
Mattaweditita.  The  latter  is  ever  the  hero.  He  gave 


192       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

the  people  seeds  of  corn,  pumpkins,  melons,  beans,  etc., 
and  showed  them  how  to  plant  and  irrigate  them.  In 
the  meantime  they  had  been  taught  how  to  live  on  grass 
seeds,  the  fruit  of  the  tuna  (prickly  pear),  and  mescal, 
and  how  to  slay  the  deer,  antelope,  turkey,  jack-rabbit, 
cottontail,  and  squirrel. 

When  the  crops  came  Tochopa  counselled  them  not 
to  eat  any  of  the  product  except  such  as  could  be 
eaten  without  destroying  the  seeds,  —  the  melons  and 
pumpkins,  —  so  that  when  planting  time  came  they 
had  an  abundance.  When  the  next  harvest  was  ripe 
the  crops  were  large,  and  after  picking  out  the  best  for 
seeds,  some  were  stored  away  in  the  cave  as  a  reserve 
and  the  remainder  eaten.  As  the  years  went  on  they 
increased  in  numbers  and  strength.  Tochopa  was  ever 
their  good  friend  and  guide.  He  taught  them  how  to 
dance  and  smoke  and  rattle  when  they  became  sick; 
he  gave  them  toholwa  —  the  sweat-house  —  to  cure  them 
of  all  evil ;  he  taught  the  women  how  to  make  pottery, 
baskets,  and  blankets  woven  from  the  dressed  skins  of 
rabbits.  The  men  he  taught  how  to  dress  buckskin, 
and  hunt  and  trap  all  kinds  of  animals  good  for  food. 
Thus  they  came  almost  to  worship  him  and  be  ever 
singing  his  praises.  This  made  Hokomata  angry.  He 
went  away  and  sulked  for  days  at  a  time.  In  his  soli- 
tude he  evidently  thought  out  a  plan  for  wreaking  his 
jealous  fury  upon  Tochopa  and  those  who  were  so  fond 
of  him.  There  was  one  family,  the  head  of  which  was 
inclined  to  be  quarrelsome,  and  Hokomata  went  and 
made  special  friends  with  him.  He  taught  the  children 
how  to  make  pellets  of  clay,  and  put  them  on  the  end 
of  sticks  and  then  shoot  them.  Soon  he  showed  them 
how  to  make  a  dart,  then  a  bow  and  arrow,  and  later 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     193 

how  to  take  the  horn  of  a  deer,  put  it  in  the  fire  until 
it  was  softened  so  that  it  could  be  moulded  to  a  sharp 
point.  This  made  a  dangerous  dagger.  Finally  he 
wrapped  buckskin  around  a  heavy  stone,  and  put  a 
handle  to  it,  thus  making  a  war-club ;  took  a  rock  and 
made  a  battle-hammer  of  it ;  and  still  another,  the  edge 
of  which  he  sharpened  so  that  a  battle-axe  was  pro- 
vided. In  the  meantime  he  had  been  stealthily  instill- 
ing into  the  hearts  of  his  friends  the  feelings  of  hatred 
and  jealousy  that  possessed  him.  He  taught  the  chil- 
dren to  shoot  the  mud  pellets  at  the  children  of  other 
families.  He  supplied  the  youths  with  slings,  and  bows 
and  arrows,  and  soon  stones  and  arrows  were  shot  at 
unoffending  workers.  Protestations  and  quarrels  en- 
sued, the  fathers  and  mothers  of  the  hurt  children  being 
angry.  Hokomata  urged  his  friends  to  defend  their 
children,  and  they  took  their  clubs,  battle-hammers 
and  axes,  and  fell  upon  those  who  complained.  Thus 
discord  and  hatred  reigned,  and  soon  the  two  sides 
were  involved  in  petty  war.  Tochopa  saw  Hokomata's 
movements  with  horror  and  dread.  He  could  not 
understand  why  he  should  do  these  terrible  things. 
Yet  when  the  people  came  to  him  with  their  complaints 
he  felt  he  must  sympathize  with  them.  The  trouble 
grew  the  greater  the  population  became,  until  at  last 
it  was  unbearable.  Then  Tochopa  determined  on  stern 
measures.  Stealthily  he  laid  his  plan  before  the  heads 
of  the  families.  Each  was  to  leave  the  canyon,  under 
the  pretext  of  going  hunting,  gathering  pinion  nuts, 
grass  seeds,  or  mescal,  and  go  in  different  directions, 
Then  at  a  certain  time  they  were  all  to  gather  at  a 
given  spot,  and  there  provide  themselves  with  weapons. 
Everything  was  done  as  he  had  planned,  the  quarrellers 

'3 


194      THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

—  the  Wha-jes  —  remaining  behind  with  Hokomata. 
Then,  one  night,  the  whole  band,  well  armed,  returned 
stealthily  to  the  canyon  and  fell  upon  the  quarrellers. 
Many  were  slain  outright,  and  all  the  remainder  driven 
from  the  home  they  had  cursed.  Not  one  was  allowed 
to  remain.  Thus  the  Wha-jes  became  a  separate  people. 
White  men  to-day  call  them  Apaches,  but  they  are 
really  the  Wha-jes,  the  descendants  of  the  quarrel- 
some people  the  Wallapais  drove  out  of  Mattaweditita 
Canyon. 

Hokomata  was  furious.  He  was  conquered,  but  led 
his  people  to  settle  not  far  away,  and  many  times  they 
returned  to  the  canyon  and  endeavored  to  kill  all  they 
could.  Thus  warfare  became  common.  The  spear  was 
invented,  —  a  long  stick  with  a  sharpened  point  of  flint. 
Sometimes  the  Wha-jes  would  come  in  large  numbers, 
when  many  of  the  men  were  away  hunting.  Then  all 
the  attacked  would  flee  to  the  cave  before  mentioned  — 
which  they  still  call  Kathat-a-kanave's  Nyu-wa  (Cave 
House)  —  where  they  built  an  outer  wall  of  fortification, 
and  farther  back  still  another.  Several  times  the  outer 
wall  was  stormed  and  taken,  but  never  could  the  Wha-jes 
penetrate  to  the  inner  part  of  the  cave,  so  to  this  day 
it  is  termed  Wa-ha-vo,  —  the  place  that  is  impregnable. 

After  many  generations  had  passed,  Hokomata  saw 
it  was  no  use  keeping  his  people  near  the  canyon; 
they  could  never  capture 'it,  and  they  had  lost  all  desire 
to  become  again  part  of  the  original  people,  so  he  led 
them  away  to  the  southeast,  beyond  the  San  Francisco 
Mountains,  down  into  what  is  now  southern  Arizona 
and  New  Mexico.  Here  they  settled  down  somewhat 
and  became  the  Apache  race,  though  they  are  still 
Wha-jes  —  quarrellers. 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     195 

Left  to  themselves,  the  families  in  Mattaweditita  in- 
creased rapidly,  until  soon  there  were  too  many  to  live 
in  comfort.  So  Tochopa  took  most  of  them  to  Milk- 
weed Canyon,  and  then  he  divided  the  separate  families 
and  allotted  to  each  his  own  territory.  To  the  Mohaves 
he  gave  the  western  region  by  the  great  river;  the 
Paiutis  he  sent  to  the  water  springs  and  pockets  of 
southern  Nevada  and  Utah;  the  Navahoes  went  east 
and  found  the  great  desert  region,  where  game  was 
plentiful;  and  the  Hopis,  who  were  always  afraid  and 
timid,  built  houses  like  Kathat-a-kanave's  fortress  on 
the  summit  of  high  mountains  or  mesas.  The  Hava- 
supais  started  to  go  with  the  Hopis,  and  they  camped 
together  one  night  in  the  depths  of  the  canyon  where 
the  blue  water  flows  to  Hackataia  —  the  Colorado. 
The  following  morning  when  they  started  to  resume 
their  journey  a  child  began  to  cry.  This  was  an  omen 
that  bade  them  remain,  so  that  family  stayed  and  be- 
came known  as  the  Haha-vasu-pai,  the  people  of  the 
Blue  Water.  Most  of  the  remaining  families  went  into 
the  Mountains  of  the  Tall  Pine,  south  of  Kingman,  and 
thus  became  known  as  the  pai  (people)  of  the  walla 
(tall  pines).  Here  they  found  plenty  of  food  of  all 
kinds  and  abundance  of  game.  As  they  increased  in 
numbers  they  spread  out,  some  going  to  Milkweed, 
others  to  Diamond  and  Peach  Springs  Canyons,  and 
wherever  they  could  find  food  and  water. 

Thus  was  the  human  race  begun  and  the  Wallapais 
established  in  their  home. 

When  I  asked  where  the  white  race  came  from,  old 
Leve-leve  scratched  his  head  for  a  moment  and  then 
declared  that  they  were  made  from  the  left-over  sticks 
in  Kathat-a-kanave's  house. 


196       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

But  the  Apaches,  under  Hokomata,  would  not  leave 
the  various  peoples  at  peace.  They  warred  upon  them 
all  the  time.  And  that  is  why  the  Wallapai  parents  of 
a  later  day  became  accused  of  cruelty  to  their  children. 
Scattered  about,  a  few  here  and  a  few  there,  tljey  were 
fit  subjects  for  Apache  attacks.  A  code  of  smoke 
signals,  for  warning,  was  adopted,  but  it  was  not  always 
possible  to  prevent  surprises.  Sometimes  the  father  of 
a  family  would  go  hunting  and  it  would  not  be  pos- 
sible for  the  mother  and  children  to  go  along.  If  she 
were  attacked  under  such  conditions,  what  could  she 
do?  If  she  tried  to  escape,  hampered  with  her  little 
ones,  they  would  all  be  caught  and  she  would  have  to 
submit  to  her  captors  and  stand  by  and  see  them  ruth- 
lessly murdered.  So  she  preferred  to  kill  them  herself, 
which  she  often  did  by  strangling  or  suffocation.  Then 
she  might  hope  to  reach  the  mountains  and  hide  until 
the  cover  of  night  gave  her  an  opportunity  to  escape. 
This  explanation  has  actually  been  given  to  me  as  a 
statement  of  fact  by  some  of  the  older  women  of  the 
tribe. 

Sometimes  when  the  Apaches  would  attempt  a  raid 
they  would  be  checkmated,  the  tables  turned,  and  they 
themselves  captured.  Then  there  were  great  rejoicings. 
A  feast  was  invariably  held,  at  which  the  scalps  were 
exposed  on  a  pole  around  which  the  dances  were  con- 
ducted in  the  light  of  immense  fires. 

Of  late  years  both  Apaches  and  Wallapais  have  been 
taught  to  bury  their  enmity.  Acting  upon  the  sugges- 
tion of  former  agent  Ewing,  the  Wallapai  chiefs  sent  a 
messenger  of  peace  and  invitation  to  the  Apache  chiefs, 
asking  them  to  come  and  visit  the  Wallapais  during 
watermelon  and  green  corn  time,  and  be  friends  as  the 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     197 

Great  Father  at  Washington  desires.  Yet  the  Apaches, 
though  the  invitation  has  been  several  times  repeated, 
have  never  come.  They  remember  "  the  days  of  the 
years  gone  by,"  —  the  days  of  murder,  rapine,  scalpings, 
and  stealings  of  women.  And  they  are  afraid  that 
poison,  treachery,  sudden  death,  torture  perhaps,  lurk 
behind  the  seeming  friendliness.  Revenge  is  sweet  to 
an  Indian,  and  the  Apache  cannot  conceive  that  so  great 
a  conversion  has  taken  place  in  the  Wallapai  heart  as 
to  lead  him  to  forego  his  just  revenge. 

When  first  known  to  the  white  man  they  were  found 
inhabiting  the  region  they  now  occupy,  including  the  * 
Wallapai  (sometimes  spelled  Hualapai),  Yavapai,  and 
Sacramento  Valleys.  Their  chief  mountain  ranges 
were  the  Cerbab,  Wallapai,  Aquarius,  and  northern 
portion  of  Chemehuevi  ranges.  They  roamed  as  far 
south  as  Bill  Williams'  Fork  of  the  Colorado,  and 
its  branch,  the  Santa  Maria.  They  then  numbered 
about  the  same  as  they  do  now,  between  six  and  seven 
hundred. 

In  Coues'  translation  of  GarceV  Diary  Prof.  F.  W. 
Hodge  gives  other  forms  of  spelling  the  name  of  the 
Wallapais,  as  follows :  "  Hah-wdl-coes,  Haulapais,  Ha- 
wol-la  Pai,  Ho-allo-pi,  Hualpais,  Hualapais,  Hualipais, 
Hualopais,  Hualpditch,  Hualpas,  Hualpias,  Huallapais, 
Hulapais,  Hwalapai,  Jagullapai  (after  Garces),  Jaguy- 
apay,  Jaqualapai,  Jaguallapai,  Tiquillapai,  Wallapais, 
Wil-ha-py-ah." 

These  and  the  various  names  given  to  the  Wallapais 
show  the  difficulties  explorers  encounter  in  endeavoring 
correctly  to  spell  the  names  they  hear.  It  should  never 
be  forgotten  that  the  Amerinds  of  the  Southwest  speak 
with  quite  as  great  a  latitude  in  pronunciation  as  is 


198       THE    INDIANS   OF   THE 

found  in  the  wonderfully  varied  dialects  of  the  English 
language.  To  make  all  these  different  pronunciations 
conform  to  a  standard '  American  method  is  one  part 
of  the  grand  work  of  the  Geographical  Board,  a  much 
abused  but  highly  necessary  public  body. 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     199 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  PEOPLE    OF  THE    BLUE   WATER   AND  THEIR 

HOME 

OF  no  people  of  the  Southwest,  perhaps,  has  so 
much  utter  nonsense  been  written  as  of  this  inter- 
esting People  of  the  Blue  Water,  the  pai  (people)  of  the 
vasu  (blue)  haha  (water)  —  the  Havasupais.  As  far  as 
we  know,  Padre  Garces  was  the  first  white  man  to  visit 
them  in  their  Cataract  Canyon  home,  and  he  speaks  of 
his  visit  in  his  interesting  Diary  translated  and  annotated 
by  the  lamented  Elliott  Coues  shortly  before  his  death. 

Captain  Sitgreaves,  Lieutenant  Ives,  Captain  'Palfrey, 
Major  J.  W.  Powell,  Lieut.  F.  H.  Gushing,  and  others 
in  turn  visited  them,  but  very  little  was  either  known 
or  written  about  them  when,  over  a  dozen  years  ago, 
I  was  conducted  to  their  marvellously  picturesque  home 
by  Mr.  W.  W.  Bass,  the  well-known  guide  of  the  Grand 
Canyon. 

The  journey  on  that  occasion  was  a  remarkable  one  for 
me,  as,  though  I  was  fairly  well  versed  in  the  trails  of  the 
Grand  Canyon  (having  then  descended  four  of  them), 
I  had  never  seen  such  a  trail  as  was  the  Topocobya  Trail 
down  which  we  descended  late  in  the  evening.  Leav- 
ing our  wagon,  after  sixteen  miles'  drive  through  the 
Kohonino  Forest  from  Bass  Camp,  we  packed  food, 
blankets,  and  cameras  on  horses  and  burros,  and,  after 
two  miles  of  travel  in  what  in  Western  parlance  is  called 


200       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

a  "  draw,"  the  real  head  of  the  trail  was  reached.  We 
walked  in  the  closing  dusk  of  day  to  the  edge  of  the 
precipice  and  looked  off  to  where  our  guide  told  us  we 
must  shortly  be  travelling.  Far  below,  almost  a  thou- 
sand feet,  without  the  sign  of  a  trail,  it  seemed  as  if  he 
must  be  hoaxing  us.  Soon,  however,  as  we  followed  him, 
we  found  ourselves  on  a  rocky  shelf,  and  then  began  the 
most  stupendous  series  of  zigzags  I  had  ever  been  on. 
Back  and  forth  we  wended,  our  trail  a  mere  scratch  on 
the  rocky  slope,  here  descending  rugged  steps,  where 
a  misstep  meant  sure  and  awful  death.  Higher  and 
higher  the  walls  rose  around  us;  darker  and  darker 
grew  the  night ;  more  weird  and  awesome  the  wind  and 
weather  carved  figures  sculptured  on  the  sides  and  sum- 
mits of  the  walls,  and  still  down  we  went.  At  last  we 
reached  a  vast  cavernous-like  place  where  Topocobya 
Spring  is  located.  A  small  flow  of  water  comes  from 
the  solid  rock,  and  there  we  watered  our  horses  and 
filled  up  our  canteens  prior  to  advancing  on  our  seem- 
ingly never-ending  descent.  At  last  we  reached  the 
level,  and  there,  lighting  a  fire,  made  camp  and  rested 
before  penetrating  farther  into  the  deep  and  mystic 
recesses  of  the  Havasupais.  Early  in  the  morning  we 
began  the  farther  descent.  Mile  after  mile  we  traversed, 
first  riding  on  the  dry  bed  of  the  winter  stream,  then 
entering  the  narrower  walls  formed  by  the  erosion  of 
centuries  through  first  one  stratum  of  rock,  then  an- 
other. Now  we  were  riding  on  a  narrow  shelf,  on  one 
side  of  which  was  a  high  wall,  and  on  the  other  a  deep, 
narrow  ravine,  in  the  bottom  of  which  the  erosive  forces 
have  cut  a  number  of  holes,  —  small  troughs  or  bath 
tubs  in  the  sandstone,  where  during  the  rainy  season 
pools  of  delicious  water  may  be  found.  In  a  short  time 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     201 

we  were  riding  up  or  down  literal  stairways  cut  in  the 
rock,  or  rounding  "  Cape  Horns,"  where  we  held  our 
breath  at  the  dreadful  consequences  that  would  ensue 
were  horse  or  man  to  slip.  Entering  Rattlesnake 
Canyon  our  wjiole  course  was  on  a  shelving  slope  of 
rock,  over  which  even  experienced  horses  tread  gingerly. 
At  last  we  came  to  the  bed  of  the  main  canyon,  and 
then  for  five  or  six  miles  we  journeyed  on,  in  the  sand 
or  the  gravelly  wash,  for  the  stream  that  flows  through 
this  narrow  canyon  in  storm  times  has  no  other  law  than 
its  own  wilful  force.  To-day  we  ride  in  one  place,  to- 
morrow's storm  changes  everything.  After  numberless 
twinings  and  twistings,  all  of  which,  however,  gave  a 
persistent  northwesterly  direction  to  our  travelling,  we 
came  in  sight  of  a  score  or  so  of  large  and  fine  cotton- 
wood  trees,  whose  height  far  surpassed  the  smaller  mes- 
quite,  cottonwood,  and  other  trees  that  line  much  of  the 
canyon's  bed.  These  large  trees  told  us  our  journey 
was  practically  at  an  end,  for  here  begins  the  outpour- 
ing of  the  numberless  springs  that  make  the  stream  we 
can  already  hear  rushing  in  its  pebbly  bed  lower  down. 
Without  any  premonition  they  spring  out  in  large  and 
small  volume  at  the  foot  of  some  of  these  trees,  and  the 
Havasu  —  the  Blue  Water  —  is  made.  Every  few  yards 
adds  to  the  water's  volume,  for  more  springs  empty 
their  flow  into  it.  The  first  and  only  real  buildings  are 
the  schoolhouse  and  the  homes  of  the  farmer  and 
teachers,  and  then,  at  once,  begin  the  small  farms  of 
the  Havasupais. 

Stand  on  the  slope  here,  where  a  mass  of  talus  rises 
from  the  trail  side,  so  that  we  can  survey  the  whole  of 
the  picturesque  scene.  Note  its  setting!  Towering 
walls  of  regularly  laminated  red  sandstone,  though  the 


202       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

layers  are  of  differing  thicknesses,  wind  in  and  out,  as 
if  following  the  meandering  course  of  the  stream,  and 
over  this  the  perfect  blue  of  the  Arizona  sky.  These 
make  the  most  marvellously  picturesque  dwelling-place 
of  America.  Even  Acoma's  mesa  heights  and  Walpi's 
precipice-surrounded  walls  are  not  more  picturesque, 
and  when  you  add  the  charm  of  the  verdure  nourished 
by  the  sweet  waters  of  the  Havasu,  the  picture  is  com- 
plete in  its  unique  attractiveness. 

Not  even  in  the  Green  Emerald  Isle,  or  the  county 
of  Devonshire,  or  the  vineyards  of  France,  is  richer 
verdure  to  be  found  than  fills  up  the  open  space  between 
these  great  walls.  Willows  reveal  the  winding  path  of 
the  Havasu,  and  everywhere  else  are  the  fields  of  the 
Indians.  Patches  of  corn,  watermelons,  squash,  cante- 
loupes,  beans,  sunflowers,  chili,  onions,  and  alfalfa,  with 
here  and  there  peach,  mesquite,  and  cottonwood  trees, 
abound.  As  a  rule  these  patches  are  protected  and  set 
off  one  from  another  by  hedges  of  wattled  willows  or 
fences  of  rudely  placed  cottonwood  poles.  Through 
the  fields  trails  meander  in  every  direction,  and  they  are 
also  "  cut  up  "  by  irrigating  ditches.  Some  of  the  better 
irrigated  fields  are  divided  into  small  sections — like  the 
squares  of  a  checker-board  —  in  order  that  the  water 
may  be  more  systematically  distributed. 

The  peaceful  hawas  of  the  Havasupais  nestle  here 
and  there  among  these  verdant  growths.  Themselves 
covered  with  willows,  it  is  often  hard  to  distinguish  them 
from  the  trees,  were  it  not  that  at  our  approach  small 
groups  of  men,  women,  and  children,  some  clad  in  flam- 
ing red,  others  in  all  the  colors  of  the  rainbow,  and  some 
in  even  less  than  Mark  Twain's  descriptive  smile,  stand 
forth  and  reveal  the  dwelling-places.  Now  and  again 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     203 

the  curling  line  of  bluish  smoke  of  the  camp-fire  reveals 
the  hawa,  and  we  gladly  avail  ourselves  of  one  or  the 
other  of  these  marks  of  identification  to  make  ourselves 
more  familiar  with  the  real  home  of  the  Havasupais. 
After  investigation  we  find  there  are  several  distinct 
types  of  houses,  all  simple  and  primitive,  and  yet  each 
different  from  the  other. 

Chickapanagie's  summer  home  is  a  type  of  the  sim- 
plest character.  Two  upright  poles  with  forks  at  the 
top,  standing  about  six  feet  high,  are  placed  in  line  with 
each  other  fifteen  feet  apart.  A  cross-beam  is  placed 
on  these  uprights.  Then  a  row  of  poles,  about  eight 
to  nine  feet  in  length,  is  sloped  against  the  cross-beam. 
These  are  covered  with  willows,  and  there  is  the  com- 
pleted hawa. 

What  queer  dwelling-places  men  have,  and  ever  have 
had,  and  possibly  ever  will  have.  At  the  Paris  Exposi- 
tion of  1889  one  whole  street  was  devoted  to  a  history 
of  inhabited  dwellings.  At  one  end  were  the  earliest 
"  homes "  of  the  paleolithic  age,  caves  and  huts,  fol- 
lowed by  the  Lake  Dwellings  and  the  wickiups,  tepees, 
or  tents  of  the  present-day  Indian,  the  latter  being  the 
same  primitive  structures  the  aborigines  have  ever  used. 
The  other  end  of  the  street  was  devoted  to  the  domestic 
architecture  of  our  own  day,  and  there,  in  a  few  hours, 
one  could  study  almost  every  known  form  of  home 
structure.  But  who  could  ever  reproduce  some  of  the 
homes  these  Havasupais  live  in?  Wicker  huts  in  the 
open,  and  caves  in  the  faces  of  solid  sandstone  walls 
two  thousand  feet  and  more  in  height,  these  in  turn  sur- 
mounted by  domes  and  obelisks  and  towers  and  cupolas 
that  no  modern  architect  dare  attempt  to  rival. 

These  massive  walls  absorb  the  heat  of  the  sun  in 


204       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

summer  time  and  thus  keep  the  canyon  intensely  hot 
both  night  and  day.  The  large  flow  of  water  and 
the  dense  growth  of  willows  and  other  verdure  keep 
the  soil  constantly  moist,  so  there  is  a  humidity  in  the 
atmosphere  which,  in  hot  weather,  makes  it  very  op- 
pressive. 

This  moisture  renders  the  canyon  cold  in  winter, 
although  the  thermometer  never  ranges  very  low.  Snow 
falls  but  seldom,  and  then  disappears  almost  as  soon  as 
it  lights.  In  1898  there  was  snow  that  stayed  on  the 
ground  for  several  hours,  but  this  was  one  of  the  sever- 
est winters  they  have  had  for  many  years. 

A  hundred  yards  or  so  below  where  the  springs  com- 
mence to  flow  Wallapai  Canyon  enters  from  the  left. 
It  is  similar  in  appearance  to,  though  narrower  than, 
Havasu  (Cataract)  Canyon,  the  walls  being  of  red  sand- 
stone, the  strata  of  which  are  as  regular  as  if  laid  by 
masons.  A  few  hundred  yards  beyond  the  junction  of 
the  two  canyons  a  remarkable  piece  of  Indian  engineer- 
ing is  in  evidence,  showing  how  the  Indians  ascend 
from  a  lower  to  an  upper  platform.  There  is  a  drop 
here  in  the  stratum  of  some  twenty-five  or  thirty  feet, 
and  to  overcome  this  obstacle  the  Havasupais  built  a 
cage  with  logs  which  they  filled  with  stones,  and  then 
from  this  stretched  rude  logs  up  and  across,  to  which 
other  logs  were  fastened,  thus  making  a  fairly  substan- 
tial bridge  from  the  lower  to  the  upper  stratum  over 
which  their  horses  as  well  as  themselves  could  safely 
pass.  The  trail  from  this  point  ascends  through  tortuous 
canyons  a  distance  of  seven  miles  to  the  territory  oc- 
cupied by  the  Wallapais. 

Just  below  the  entrance  to  Wallapai  Canyon  a  vast 
mass  of  talus  has  fallen,  and  two  hundred  yards  farther 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     ao5 

down,  the  Cataract  Canyon  trail  goes  over  a  portion  of 
this  talus  to  avoid  the  creek,  which  has  here  crossed 
from  the  other  side  of  the  canyon  and  has  become  a 
rapidly  flowing  stream  some  two  feet  or  more  in  depth. 
Attached  to  this  talus  is  a  large  mass  of  solid  concrete 
made  of  pebbles,  rocks,  and  sand  that  have  been  washed 
down  in  the  creek  and  made  cohesive  by  the  lime  from 
the  water.  Here  the  canyon  narrows  again  and  the 
stupendous  walls  seem  very  near  to  the  willow-fringed 
stream  and  the  small  fields.  A  few  hundred  feet  farther 
it  opens  out  again,  and  as  one  rides  on  the  trail  he  gets 
exquisite  views  of  the  gray  stone  walls  superposed  on 
the  red  sandstones  to  the  northwest.  These  gray  and 
creamy  sandstones,  with  their  numerous  and  delicate 
tints  and  shades,  afford  most  delightful  contrasts  to  the 
glaring  and  monotonous  red  of  the  walls  beneath.  From 
this  point  we  gain  our  first  view  of  the  so-called  Hava- 
supai  stone  gods,  named  by  them  "  Hue-gli-i-wa,"  the 
story  of  which  is  told  elsewhere. 

These  rocky  pillars  with  their  supporting  walls  seem 
as  if  they  were  once  a  part  of  a  great  wall  that  entirely 
spanned  the  canyon,  the  towers  being  sentinel  outlooks 
to  guard  from  attack  both  above  and  below.  The  por- 
tion of  the  wall  to  the  right,  as  one  descends  the  canyon, 
has  been  washed  away,  but  the  tower-crowned  mass  to 
the  left  still  preserves  a  broad  sweep  into  the  very  heart 
of  the  canyon  as  if  it  would  bar  all  further  progress. 
Following  the  sweep  of  this  curve  and  passing  the  wall 
immediately  underneath  the  outermost  of  the  two  towers, 
we  view  from  the  trail  which  ascends  a  mass  of  talus 
at  this  point  another  widened-out  part  of  the  canyon, 
which  seems  entirely  covered  with  willows,  here  and 
there  overshadowed  by  a  few  straggling  cottonwoods. 


2o6       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

This  is  where  the  ceremonial  dances  of  the  Havasupais 
take  place. 

On  the  summit  of  the  wall  on  the  other  side  of  the 
canyon  from  the  Hue-gli-i-wa  are  two  stone  objects,  one 
named  Hue-a-pa-a,  and  the  one  farther  down  the  can- 
yon, Hue-pu-keh-i.  These  are  great  objects  of  rever- 
ence, for  they  represent  the  ancestors  of  the  Havasupai 
race.  Hue-a-pa-a  —  the  man  —  has  a  child  upon  his 
back  and  two  more  by  his  side,  and  he  is  calling  to  his 
wife  —  Hue-pu-keh-i  —  to  hurry  along,  as  the  baby  is 
hungry  and  needs  his  dinner.  The  full  breasts  of  the 
stone  woman  show  that  she  is  a  nursing  mother. 

Slightly  below  these  stone  figures,  and  on  the  right- 
hand  side  of  the  canyon,  is  the  old  fort,  where  in  the 
days  of  fighting  the  Havasupais  were  wont  to  retire 
when  attacked.  The  fort  is  impregnable  on  three  sides, 
being  precipitous,  and  on  the  fourth  is  accessible  only 
up  a  narrow  trail,  which  is  guarded  by  piles  of  rocks 
which  are  ready  to  be  tumbled,  even  by  a  woman,  upon 
the  heads  of  foes  who  attempt  to  ascend.  The  fortifi- 
cations and  stones  for  defence  still  remain,  but  it  is 
many  years  since  they  were  used  for  their  original 
purposes. 

One's  mind  becomes  very  active  as  he  looks  upon 
this  tribe  of  Indians  and  thinks  of  their  traditions,  his- 
tory, and  life.  So  far,  their  almost  entirely  isolated 
condition  has  been  their  preservation,  although,  sad  to 
say,  much  of  their  earlier  contact  with  our  civilization 
was  not  of  the  best  character. 

Even  in  this  land  of  our  boasted  Christianity  it  is  true 
that  the  strong  prey  upon  the  weak.  The  domination 
of  physical  force  is  giving  way  to  the  domination  of 
mental  force,  but  which  is  the  greater  evil?  Why 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     207 

should  the  man  born  with  a  mental  advantage  over  his 
fellows  exercise  that  advantage  any  more  than  the  man 
born  with  a  physical  advantage?  We  have  not  quite 
ceased  to  worship  the  Sullivans,  the  Corbetts,  and  the 
Fitzsimmonses,  and,  where  we  have,  we  have  transferred 
our  worship  to  the  intellectually  strong,  many  of  whom 
are  no  more  worthy  our  homage  than  the  prize  fighters. 
So  now  it  is  the  intellectually  strong  who  prey  upon 
the  intellectually  weak,  and,  as  in  the  physical  conflict, 
it  is  inevitable  that  the  weak  "  go  to  the  wall."  In 
simple  cunning  the  Havasupai  Indian  may  be  our 
superior,  but  in  deep  craft  he  is  "  out  of  the  field." 
His  bow  and  arrow  tipped  with  obsidian  or  flint  pitted 
against  our  repeating  rifle;  his  rolling  of  heavy  rocks 
opposed  to  our  Catling  guns ;  his  mule  and  burro  against 
our  iron  horse ;  and  his  pine  torch  against  our  electric 
light,  —  all  demonstrate  him  to  be  in  his  intellectual 
minority,  or  at  an  intellectual  disadvantage.  He  makes 
a  fine  figure  in  our  romances,  but  I  sadly  fear  that 
the  knell  of  his  doom  has  sounded,  and  that  a  few 
generations  hence  he  will  be  no  more. 

Wallapai  and  Havasu  Canyons,  far  more  than  the 
Grand  Canyon,  meet  the  popular  idea  as  to  what  a 
canyon  is.  Their  walls  are  narrow  and  precipitous, 
and  one  staying  in  their  depths  must  be  content  with  a 
late  sunrise  and  an  early  sunset.  Just  above  the  rude 
bridge  before  described  are  several  natural  reservoirs  of 
water.  Here  the  canyon  is  not  more  than  from  one 
hundred  and  fifty  to  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  wide. 
This  close  proximity  of  the  walls,  which  fairly  over- 
shadow one,  compels  one  to  feel  his  insignificance  far 
more  than  when  he  stands  in  the  wider  and  more  com- 
prehensive vastness  of  the  Grand  Canyon. 


ao8       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

From  leading  Havasupais  I  learn  that  many  years 
ago  the  various  tribes  of  this  region  were  at  war 
one  with  another,  until  finally  a  treaty  of  peace  was 
entered  into  and  boundaries  defined.  The  Paiutis  were 
to  remain  in  Nevada  and  Utah  and  not  cross  the 
Colorado  River,  the  Wallapais  had  their  region  to  the 
west  of  Havasu  Canyon,  the  Mohaves,  Hopis,  Pimas, 
Apaches,  Navahoes,  Chimehuevis,  and  the  rest  their  pre- 
scribed limits,  over  which  they  were  not  to  go  without 
permission  from  the  chiefs  into  whose  territory  they 
wished  to  pass.  And,  generally  speaking,  this  treaty 
has  been  observed. 

Of  the  exquisitely  beautiful  waterfalls  that  give  the 
commonly  accepted  name  to  Havasu  Canyon,  viz., 
Cataract  Canyon,  I  have  not  space  here  to  treat.  I 
have  already  somewhat  fully  described  them  in  my 
book  on  the  Grand  Canyon. 


PAINTED    DESERT  REGION     209 


CHAPTER  XIV 
THE  HAVASUPAIS-  AND   THEIR  LEGENDS 

IN  almost  every  case  one  finds  a  variety  of  differing 
legends  related  by  the  Indians  of  any  tribe  upon  the 
same  subject.  As  the  Wallapais  and  Havasupais  are 
cousins,  one  would  naturally  expect  their  legends  to 
have  some  things  in  common.  How  much  this  is  so 
will  be  seen  by  a  comparison  of  the  following  story 
with  that  of  the  Wallapai  Origin  Legend. 

"  The  two  gods  of  the  universe,"  said  O-dig-i-ni-ni'-a, 
the  relator  of  the  mythic  lore  of  the  Havasupais,  "  are 
Tochopa  and  Hokomata.  Tochopa  he  heap  good. 
Hokomata  heap  han-a-to-op'-o-gi  —  heap  bad  —  all  same 
white  man's  devil.  Him  Hokomata  make  big  row  with 
Tochopa,  and  he  say  he  drown  the  world. 

"  Tochopa  was  full  of  sadness  at  the  news.  He  had 
one  daughter  whom  he  devotedly  loved,  and  from  her 
he  had  hoped  would  descend  the  whole  human  race  for 
whom  the  world  had  been  made.  If  Hokomata  per- 
sisted in  his  wicked  determination  she  must  be  saved  at 
all  hazard.  So,  working  day  and  night,  he  speedily 
prepared  the  trunk  of  a  pinion  tree  by  hollowing  it  out 
from  one  end.  In  this  hollow  tree  he  placed  food  and 
other  necessaries,  and  also  made  a  lookout  window. 
Then  he  brought  his  daughter,  and  telling  her  she 
must  go  into  this  tree  and  there  be  sealed  up,  he  took 

14 


210       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

a  sad  farewell  of  her,  closed  up  the  end  of  the  tree, 
and  then  sat  down  to  await  the  destruction  of  the 
world.  It  was  not  long  before  the  floods  began  to 
descend.  Not  rain,  but  cataracts,  rivers,  deluges  came, 
making  more  noise  than  a  thousand  Hack-a-tai-as 
(Colorado  River)  and  covering  all  the  earth  with  water. 
The  pinion  log  floated,  and  in  safety  lay  Pu-keh-eh, 
while  the  waters  surged  higher  and  higher  and  covered 
the  tops  of  Hue-han-a-patch-a  (the  San  Franciscos), 
Hue-ga-wool-a  (Williams  Mountain),  and  all  the  other 
mountains  of  the  world. 

"  But  the  waters  of  heaven  could  not  always  be  pour- 
ing down,  and  soon  after  they  ceased,  the  flood  upon 
the  earth  found  a  way  to  rush  into  the  sea.  And  as  it 
dashed  down  it  cut  through  the  rocks  of  the  plateaus 
and  made  the  deep  Chic-a-mi-mi  (canyon)  of  the 
Colorado  River  (Hack-a-tai-a).  Soon  all  the  water 
was  gone. 

"  Then  Pu-keh-eh  found  her  log  no  longer  floating, 
and  she  peeped  out  of  the  window  Tochopa  had  placed 
in  her  boat,  and,  though  it  was  misty  and  almost  dark, 
she  could  see  in  the  dim  distance  the  great  mountains  of 
the  San  Francisco  range.  And  near  by  was  the  canyon 
of  the  Little  Colorado,  and  to  the  north  was  Hack-a-tai-a, 
and  to  the  west  was  the  canyon  of  the  Havasu. 

"The  flood  had  lasted  so  long  that  she  had  grown 
to  be  a  woman,  and,  seeing  the  water  gone,  she  came 
out  and  began  to  make  pottery  and  baskets  as  her 
father  long  ago  had  taught  her.  But  she  was  a  woman. 
And  what  is  a  woman  without  a  child  in  her  arms  or 
nursing  at  her  breasts?  How  she  longed  to  be  a 
mother !  But  where  was  a  father  for  her  child  ?  Alas  ! 
there  was  no  man  in  the  whole  universe ! 


a 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     211 

"Day  after  day  longings  for  maternity  filled  her 
heart,  until,  one  morning, —  glorious  happy  morning 
for  Pu-keh-eh  and  the  Havasu  race, — the  darkness 
began  to  disappear,  and  in  the  far-away  east  soft  and 
new  brightness  appeared.  It  was  the  triumphant  Sun 
coming  to  conquer  the  long  night  and  bring  light  into 
the  world.  Nearer  and  nearer  he  came,  and  at  last,  as 
he  peeped  over  the  far-away  mesa  summits,  Pu-keh-eh 
arose  and  thanked  Tochopa,  for  here,  at  last,  was  a 
father  for  her  child.  She  conceived,  and  in  the  fulness 
of  time  bore  a  son,  whom  she  delighted  in  and  called 
In-ya'-a  —  the  son  of  the  Sun. 

"  But  as  the  days  rolled  on  she  again  felt  the  longings 
for  maternity.  By  this  time  she  had  wandered  far  to 
the  west  and  had  entered  the  beautiful  canyon  of  the 
Havasu,  where  deep  down  between  the  rocks  were 
several  grand  and  glorious  waterfalls,  and  one  of  these, 
Wa-ha-hath-peek-ha-ha,  she  determined  should  be  the 
father  of  her  second  child. 

"  When  it  was  born  it  was  a  girl,  and  to  this  day  all 
the  girls  of  the  Havasupai  are  'daughters  of  the  water.' 

"  As  these  two  children  grew  up  they  married,  and 
thus  became  the  progenitors  of  the  human  race.  First 
the  Havasupais  were  born,  then  the  Apaches,  then  the 
Wallapais,  then  the  Hopis,  then  the  Paiutis,  then  the 
Navahoes. 

"  And  Tochopa  told  them  all  where  they  should  live. 
The  Havasupais  and  the  Apaches  were  to  dwell  in 
Havasu  Canyon,  the  former  on  one  side  of  the  Havasu 
(blue  water),  and  the  latter  on  the  other  side,  and  occupy 
the  territory  as  far  east  as  the  Little  Colorado  and  south 
to  the  San  Francisco  Mountains.  The  Wallapais  were  to 
roam  in  the  country  west  of  Havasu  Canyon,  and  the 


212       THE   INDIANS   OF  THE 

Hopis  and  Navahoes  east  of  the  Little  Colorado,  and 
the  Paiutis  north  of  the  big  Colorado. 

"  And  there  in  Havasu  Canyon,  above  their  dancing- 
place,  he  carved  on  the  summit  of  the  walls  figures 
of  Pu-keh-eh  and  A-pa-a  to  remind  them  from  whom 
they  were  descended.  Here  for  a  long  time  Havasupais 
and  Apaches  lived  together  in  peace,  but  one  day  an 
Apache  man  saw  a  most  beautiful  Havasu  woman,  and  he 
fell  in  love  with  her,  and  he  went  to  his  home  and  prayed 
and  longed  and  ate  his  heart  out  for  this  woman  who 
was  the  wife  of  another.  He  called  upon  Hokomata, 
the  bad  god,  to  help  him,  and  Hokomata,  always  glad 
to  foment  trouble,  told  him  to  pay  no  attention  to  the 
restrictions  placed  upon  him  by  Tochopa,  but  to  cross 
the  Havasu,  kill  the  woman's  husband,  and  steal  her  for 
his  own  wife. 

"  The  Apache  heeded  this  evil  counsel  and  did  so. 

"  When  the  Havasupais  discovered  the  wrong  that 
had  been  done  them,  and  the  great  disgrace  this  Apache 
had  brought  upon  the  tribe,  they  counselled  together, 
and  determined  to  drive  out  the  Apaches  from  their 
canyon  home.  No  longer  should  they  be  brothers. 
They  bade  the  Apaches  be  gone,  and  when  they  refused, 
fell  upon  them  and  drove  them  out.  Up  thte  rocks  near 
Hue-gli-i-wa  the  Apaches  climbed,  and  to  this  day  the 
marks  of  their  footsteps  may  be  seen.  They  were 
driven  far  away  to  the  south  and  commanded  never  to 
come  north  of  the  San  Francisco  Mountains.  Hence, 
though  originally  they  were  brothers,  there  has  ever 
since  been  war  between  the  people  of  the  Havasu  and 
the  Apaches. 

"  Then,  to  remind  them  of  the  sure  punishment  that 
comes  to  evil-doers.  Tochopa  carved  the  great  stone 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     213 

figures  of  the  Apache  man  and  the  Havasupai  squaw 
so  that  they  could  be  seen  from  above  and  below,  and 
there  to  this  day  the  Hue-gli-i-wa  remain,  as  a  warning 
against  unlawful  love  and  its  dire  consequences." 

Here  is  another  story  told  by  a  shaman  of  the  Hava- 
supais  of  the  origin  of  the  race.  It  is  interesting  and 
instructive  to  note  the  points  of  similarity  and  difference. 

"  In  the  days  of  long  ago  a  man  and  a  woman  (Hoko- 
mata  and  Pukeheh  Panowa)  lived  here  on  the  earth. 
By  and  by  a  son  was  born  to  them,  whom  they  named 
Tochopa.  As  he  grew  up  to  manhood  Pukeheh 
Panowa  fell  in  love  with  him  and  wished  to  marry  him, 
but  he  instinctively  shrank  from  such  incestuous  inter- 
course. The  woman  grew  angry  as  he  repelled  her,  and 
she  made  a  number  of  frogs  which  brought  large  vol- 
umes of  water.  Soon  all  the  country  began  to  be  flooded 
with  water,  and  Hokomata  found  out  what  was  the 
matter.  He  then  took  Tochopa  and  a  girl  and  placed 
them  in  the  trunk  of  a  pinion  tree,  sealed  it  up,  and  sent 
them  afloat  on  the  waters.  He  stored  the  tree  with 
corn,  peaches,  pumpkins,  and  other  food,  so  they  would 
not  be  hungry,  and  for  many  long  days  the  tree  floated 
hither  and  thither  on  the  face  of  the  waters.  Soon  the 
waters  began  to  subside,  and  the  tree  grounded  near  to 
where  the  Little  Colorado  now  is.  When  Tochopa 
found  the  tree  was  no  longer  floating  he  knocked  on 
the  side,  and  Hokomata  heard  him  and  came  and  let 
him  out.  As  he  stepped  on  the  ground  he  saw  Huehan- 
apatcha  (the  San  Francisco  Mountains),  Huegadawiza 
(Red  Butte),  Huegawoola  (Williams  Mountain),  and  he 
said :  "  I  know  these  mountains.  This  is  not  far  from  my 
country.  And  the  water  ran  down  the  Hack-a-tha-eh-la 
(the  salty  stream,  or  the  Little  Colorado)  and  made  Hack- 


214      THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

a-tai-a  (the  Grand  Canyon  of  the  Colorado).  Here  he 
and  his  wife  lived  until  she  gave  birth  to  the  son  and 
daughter  as  before  related." 

The  way  the  Wallapai  became  a  separate  people  is 
thus  related  by  the  Havasupais : 

"  A  long  time  ago  the  animals  were  all  the  same  as 
Indians,  and  the  Indians  as  the  animals.  The  Coyote 
he  lived  here  in  Havasu  Canyon.  One  time  he  go  away 
for  a  long  time  and  he  catch  'em  a  good  squaw,  and  by 
and  bye  he  have  a  little  boy. 

"  The  little  boy  grew  up  to  be  a  man,  and  he  went  up 
on  top  (out  of  the  canyon,  upon  the  higher  plateaus), 
and  there  he  found  two  squaw.  It  heap  cold  on  top,  and 
he  get  two  squaw  to  keep  him  warm  when  he  go  to 
sleep.  Then  he  came  back  to  Havasu,  and  when  his 
papa  (the  Coyote)  saw  his  two  squaws  he  said :  *  I  take 
this  one.  One  squaw  enough  for  you/  But  the  boy 
was  angry  and  said  one  squaw  was  not  enough.  '  When 
I  lie  down  to  sleep  I  heap  cold.  Squaw  she  heap  warm. 
Two  squaw  keep  me  warm.'  The  Coyote  told  his  son 
not  to  talk ;  he  must  be  content  with  one  squaw  and  go 
to  sleep.  And  the  squaw  was  proud  that  the  Coyote 
had  made  her  his  wife,  and  she  began  to  taunt  the  boy, 
and  when  he  replied  she  asked  the  Coyote  to  tell  his 
boy  not  to  talk.  And  the  Coyote  was  mad  and  spoke 
angrily  to  his  boy. 

"  When  he  awoke  in  the  morning  his  son  was  gone. 
And  ten  sleeps  passed  by  and  still  he  did  not  come 
back,  so  the  Coyote  tracked  him  up  Wallapai  Can- 
yon, and  went  a  long,  long  way.  He  reached  the 
hilltop  and  still  he  did  not  find  his  son.  At  last,  a 
long,  long  way  off  he  saw  him,  and  he  changed  him 
into  a  mountain  sheep*.  Then  a  lot  more  mountain 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     215 

sheep  came  and  ran  with  the  Coyote's  son,  and  the 
Coyote  could  not  tell  which  of  the  band  was  his  boy. 
He  looked  and  looked,  but  it  was  all  in  vain.  He  tried 
to  change  his  boy  back  again,  so  that  he  would  no 
longer  be  a  mountain  sheep,  but,  as  he  could  not  tell 
which  was  his  boy,  his  efforts  were  in  vain,  and  he  had 
to  go  back  to  Havasu  alone. 

"  For  a  long  time  the  boy  remained  as  a  mountain 
sheep,  until  the  horns  had  grown  large  upon  his  head. 
Then  he  changed  himself  back  to  a  man,  and  he  found 
his  squaw  there,  waiting  for  him,  and  that  is  why,  to 
this  day,  the  Wallapai  is  to  the  Havasupai  the  A-mu-u 
or  mountain  sheep." 

The  origin  of  the  Hopis  is  thus  related  by  the 
Havasupais : 

"Long  time  ago  two  men  were  born  near  Mooney 
Falls.  They  were  twins,  yet  one  was  big  man,  and  the 
other  a  little  big.  They  came  up  into  this  part  of  the 
canyon  (where  the  Havasupais  now  live).  It  was  no 
good  in  those  days.  There  was  no  water  and  it  was 
'  heap  hot.'  The  little  big  man  he  say :  '  I  no  like  'em 
stay  here.  Let  us  go  hunt  'em  good  place  to  live 
where  we  catch  plenty  water,  plenty  corn.'  So  they 
left  the  canyon  and  climbed  out  where  the  Hopi  trail 
now  is.  Here  they  stayed  in  the  forest  some  time, 
hunting  and  making  buckskin.  After  they  had  got  a 
large  bundle  of  buckskins  dressed,  they  put  them  on 
their  backs  and  began  to  walk  on  to  seek  the  country 
of  lots  of  water,  where  plenty  of  corn  would  grow.  But 
it  was  hot  weather  and  the  load  was  heavy,  and  they 
soon  grew  so  very  tired  that  the  smaller  brother  began 
to  cry.  As  they  walked  on  he  cried  more  and  more, 


216       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

until  when  they  came  to  the  hilltop  looking  down  to 
the  Little  Colorado  River,  he  said :  *  I  cannot  go  any 
farther.  I  am  going  to  lie  down  here  and  go  to  sleep.' 
So  they  both  went  to  sleep,  and  when  they  woke  up  the 
big  brother  said :  '  Where  you  go  ?  You  no  walk  long 
way.  You  heap  tired.' 

"  And  the  little  brother  answered :  '  I  no  like  go 
farther.  I  go  back  Havasu.  I  catch  'em  water  there.' 

"'All  right!'  replied  the  big  brother,  'I  no  like 
Havasu.  I  go  hunt  water  and  plant  corn  and  water- 
melons and  sunflowers.  You  go  back  to  Havasu.' 

"  And  he  gave  him  a  little  bit  of  corn,  and  that  ex- 
plains why  the  Havasupais  can  grow  only  a  small  amount 
of  corn  in  their  canyon,  though  it  is  exceedingly  sweet 
and  delicious. 

"  But  the  big  brother  went  on  and  found  the  places 
now  occupied  by  the  Hopi,  and  he  settled  there.  And 
as  he  had  taken  lots  of  corn  with  him  and  he  planted 
it,  that  explains"  (to  the  Havasupai  mind)  "why  the 
Hopi  has  so  much  corn. 

"  And  the  smaller  brother  found  water  when  he  got 
back  to  Havasu,  and  he  planted  his  corn,  and  cared  for 
it,  and  went  and  hunted  and  caught  the  deer  and  made 
buckskin.  Then  he  found  a  squaw  who  made  baskets, 
and  helped  him  make  mescal,  and  they  stopped  there 
all  the  time. 

"  The  Hopi  brother  learned  to  make  blankets,  but  no 
buckskin,  so  when  he  wants  buckskin  he  has  to  come 
to  his  smaller  brother  in  Havasu  Canyon.*' 

In  the  early  days  the  Havasupais  were  undoubtedly 
cliff-dwellers,  for  in  a  score  or  more  places  in  their 
canyons  are  houses  in  the  cliffs  — .some  of  them  inacces- 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     217 

sible  — which  their  traditions  say  were  once  occupied  by 
certain  families,  the  names  of  which  are  still  remembered. 
All  throughout  the  Grand  Canyon  region,  too,  from  the 
Little  Colorado  River  to  Havasu  Canyon,  their  cliff- 
dwellings,  and  smaller  cliff  "  corn-houses  "  and  mescal 
pits,  are  to  be  found.  Indeed,  the  Havasupais  built  all 
the  trails  that  are  now  being  claimed  as  the  work  of 
white  men  into  the  heart  of  the  Grand  Canyon.  The 
Tanner-French  trail,  the  Red  Canyon  trail,  the  old  Hance 
trail,  the  Grand  View,  Bright  Angel,  and  Mystic  Spring 
trails,  are  all  old  Indian  trails.  Not  only  are  the  cliff- 
dwellings  and  mescal  pits  proof  of  this,  but  the  Havasu- 
pais can  tell  the  families  to  whom  they  originally 
belonged  and  to  whom  the  rights  in  them  have  descended. 
These  rights  they  rigidly  adhere  to.  It  is  the  white 
man  who  knows  no  law  as  far  as  the  Indian  is  concerned, 
and  little  by  little  the  aborigine  has  lost  springs,  water- 
pockets,  and  trails,  and  is  regarded  and  treated  as  an 
unwelcome  visitor. 

By  this  it  must  not  be  inferred  that  the  Indians  built 
the  trails  as  white  men  build.  In  the  main  their  trails 
were  rude  paths  such  as  the  mountain  sheep  might 
make,  but  in  every  case  they  had  one  of  these  rude 
pathways  down  into  the  canyon  somewhere  near  to 
where  the  modern  trails  are  now  located.  At  the  Bright 
Angel  this  path  was  changed  when  white  engineers  took 
hold  of  it,  and  at  Mystic  Spring  Mr.  Bass  had  built  an 
entirely  new  trail,  down  a  different  slope,  long  before  he 
discovered  the  Indian  trail.  Both  unite  near  two  great 
natural  rock-cisterns,  and  then  deviate  below,  the  Indian 
trail  zigzagging  to  the  left,  while  Mr.  Bass  engineered  a 
new  trail  of  easy  grade  on  the  talus  to  the  right. 

Some  of  the  Havasupais  are  returning  to  the  cliff- 


2i 8       THE    INDIANS   OF   THE 

dwelling  style  of  homes.  My  friend  Wa-lu-tha-ma  is 
forsaking  his  wood  and  brush  "  hawas,"  and  construct- 
ing a  house  under  the  cliffs,  where,  as  he  quaintly  puts 
it,  he  can  "  keep  dry  when  much  rain  comes." 

It  seems  to  me  a  reasonable  supposition  that  it  was 
from  the  frequency  of  the  occurrence  of  these  corn- 
houses  in  the  walls  of  Havasu  (Cataract)  Canyon,  with 
the  occasional  appearance  of  a  few  of  the  larger  houses 
used  as  dwellings  by  the  Havasupais,  that  the  absurd 
and  romantic  yarns  had  their  origin  that  fifteen,  or  less, 
years  ago,  were  current  in  Arizona  and  elsewhere  about 
this  interesting  people.  The  cowboys,  miners,  pro- 
spectors, and  others,  who  accidentally  stumbled  upon  the 
upper  entrance  to  the  Havasu  Canyon,  and  wandered 
down  its  meandering  course  for  ten  or  forty  miles,  even 
to  the  village  of  the  simple  Havasupais,  returned  to 
civilization  and  propagated  and  circulated  stories  that 
out-Munchausened  Munchausen.  They  said  these  people 
were  cliff-dwellers,  living  at  the  present  day  in  the  walls 
of  the  canyon ;  they  were  of  powerful  physical  presence, 
and  possessed  great  endurance.  Their  fields  and  gar- 
dens were  wonderful,  and  their  peach  orchards  surpassed 
those  of  most  civilized  cultivation,  and  they  held  in 
slavery  a  lesser  people,  dwarfs  or  pigmies,  doubtless, 
who  were  cliff-dwellers  like  themselves,  and  whom  they 
compelled  by  great  cruelty  to  perform  the  most  arduous 
labors. 

Others,  having  heard  these  stories,  but  whose  spirit  of 
adventure  took  them  no  farther  than  the  "  rim  "  of  the 
canyon,  claimed  to  have  looked  into  the  village  and  side 
canyons,  and  there  seen  the  truth  of  these  stories 
demonstrated.  They  had  seen  the  pigmies  and  the 
gigantic  Havasupais,  had  heard  the  harsh  yells  of  the 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     219 

latter  at  the  former,  and  had  seen  the  frantic  endeavors 
of  the  little  people  to  obey  the  stern  behests  of  their 
masters. 

All  these  yarns  are  explained  by  the  fact  that  the 
distance  of  view  dimmed  the  vision ;  the  pigmies  were 
boys  driving  the  burros  or  horses,  yelling  and  shouting 
as  Havasupai  boys  delight  to  do,  the  voices  magni- 
fied fifty-fold  by  the  echoing  walls  of  the  canyon,  while 
the  parents  moved  around  attending  to  their  own 
business,  or  looked  on  and  occasionally  helped  by 
a  shout  of  encouragement  or  suggestion. 


220       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  SOCIAL  AND   DOMESTIC  LIFE  OF  THE 
HAVASUPAIS 

FROM  the  cradle  to  the  grave  the  life  of  a  Hava- 
supai  is  practically  an  out-of-door  life.  Their 
hawas  —  even  the  best  of  them  —  are  partially  exposed 
and  open,  and  in  the  summer  hawas  there  is  no 
pretence  at  what  among  civilized  peoples  is  essential 
privacy. 

The  games  of  the  Havasupai  children  seem  very  few. 
I  have  seen  only  three.  Of  the  first  importance  is 
shinny,  or,  as  they  call  it,  tha-se-vi '~ga.  The  goals  are 
go-ji-ga ',  the  ball,  ta-ma-nd-da,  and  the  playing  stick 
ta-so-vig*-a.  The  boys  enter  into  this  with  the  zest  one 
would  expect  of  such  a  time-honored  game,  yet,  such 
is  their  general  indifference  to  prolonged  effort,  they 
do  not  play  it  very  often. 

An  easier  game,  but  generally  left  to  the  girls,  is, 
hui-ta~qui! -chi-ka  to-kof-bi-gat  which  I  have  fully  de- 
scribed in  my  book  on  the  Grand  Canyon. 

The  third  game  is  stolen  bodily  from  the  Navahoes, 
except  the  name,  which  with  the  Havasupais  is  Tod- 
wi-ga.  It  is  the  Nan-zosh,  and  is  elsewhere  fully  described 
in  these  pages. 

Such  a  paucity  of  games  is  indicative  of  low  mental 
power,  lack  of  imagination  and  invention,  and  results 
in,  or  perhaps  from,  a  slow,  heavy  mental  tempera- 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     221 

merit.  There  is  no  comparison  between  the  children 
of  the  same  ages  of  the  Havasupais  and  the  Navahoes 
or  Hopis.  And  yet,  when  they  enter  school,  some  of 
the  Havasupais  learn  with  a  rapidity  equal  to  that  of 
these  other  children. 

It  seems  strange  to  find  a  people  whose  children 
have  no  equivalent  for  dolls;  nothing  specifically  to 
care  for.  They  are  capricious  in  their  treatment  of 
their  domestic  animals,  cats  and  dogs,  sometimes  petting 
them  to  excess,  and  then  lifting  the  yelping  or  squall- 
ing creatures  by  the  legs,  twisting  these  members  over 
their  backs,  or  otherwise  torturing  them. 

The  boys  and  the  girls,  as  well  as  the  men  and 
women,  are  expert  horse  riders.  Every  family  has  its 
horses,  and  the  children  ride  from  their  earliest  years. 
Even  as  I  write  I  catch  glimpses  now  and  then  of  a 
red-shawled  girl  on  horseback  and  hear  the  hard  strike 
of  the  horse's  hoofs  as  he  dashes  along  at  break-neck 
speed  along  the  trail  near  the  hawa  of  my  host.  All  ride 
astride,  and  are  as  fearless  in  ascending  and  descending 
the  steep  trails  that  give  access  and  egress  to  their 
canyon  home  as  the  wildest  and  most  expert  of  the 
Rough  Riders. 

One  of  their  great  sports  and  gala  times  is  when  visit- 
ing Indians — Navahoes,  Hopis,  or  Wallapais  —  come 
with  fleet  horses  and  races  are  arranged  for.  While  they 
have  no  "  Derby  Day,"  they  have  days  on  which  half 
the  personal  property  of  the  village  is  pledged  on  the 
success  of  certain  horses.  They  are  inveterate  gam- 
blers ;  and  blankets,  buckskins,  saddles,  bridles,  Navaho 
jewelry,  horses,  burros,  and  everything  "  gambleable " 
are  risked  on  the  outcome.  And  what  an  exciting  scene 
an  Indian  horserace  is,  and  how  picturesque!  There 


222       THE    INDIANS   OF   THE 

is  not  so  much  difference  after  all  in  human  nature, 
when  one  penetrates  below  the  surface.  The  reserved 
Englishman,  the  excitable  Italian,  the  vivacious  French- 
man, and  the  so-called  stupid  and  stolid  native  ab- 
original American  exhibit  exactly  the  same  traits  of 
character  under  the  excitement  of  a  horserace.  But 
in  Havasu  Canyon  the  conditions  are  quite  different 
from  Ascot,  Doncaster,  or  Newmarket.  Here  are  bucks 
dressed  in  the  breech-clout  and  excitement,  and  women 
gesticulating  and  waving  their  si-dram'-as  (our  large 
flaming  red  or  other  "  loud "  colored  bandannas, 
fastened  over  the  shoulders  and  across  the  breast). 
Some  suppress  their  excitement,  others  jabber  like 
monkeys,  and  as  the  horses  come  to  the  starting-point 
there  is  just  as  much  talking  and  din  as  after  the  start 
is  made.  One  distinct  feature  is  that  many  horses  are 
raced  without  riders.  They  seem  to  understand,  and 
when  the  signal  to  "  let  go  "  is  given  they  dart  off  at 
full  speed,  just  as  if  riders  were  on  their  backs  urging 
them  forward.  Compared  with  our  finely  bred,  beauti- 
fully chiselled  horses,  such  as  one  sees,  or  used  to  see, 
in  Lucky  Baldwin's  or  the  late  Senator  Stanford's  stables, 
what  ragged,  scrawny,  wretched  creatures  these  are; 
and  yet  when  they  run  how  they  surprise  you,  how 
those  ugly  limbs  seem  to  limber  up,  and  those  sleepy 
eyes  gain  fire! 

Gambling  at  these  races  is  carried  to  an  extraordinary 
extent.  Men,  women,  and  children  alike  gamble  all 
they  possess,  or  even  hope  to  possess.  This  gambling 
spirit  has  grown  wonderfully  in  the  past  few  years,  for, 
during  the  Kohot  Navaho's  lifetime  he  constantly  used 
his  powerful  influence  to  discourage  it. 

Gambling,  unfortunately,  is  not  confined  merely  to 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     223 

horse-racing.  All  the  afternoon,  as  I  have  sat  at  my 
work,  a  group  of  eight  women,  some  young,  some  middle- 
aged,  and  one  old,  have  gambled  without  cessation  for 
five  solid  hours.  Two  young  mothers  had  their  babies  — 
surely  not  more  than  two  to  three  months  old  —  and 
the  youngest  of  the  women  was  one  of  these  mothers, 
and  she  could  not  have  been  more  than  eighteen  years 
of  age.  Girls  gamble  at  Hui-ta-qui-chi-ka  for  safety- 
pins,  and  boys  for  knives  and  the  like,  so  that  now  it 
is  a  vice  which  has  affected  every  individual  of  the 
tribe. 

The  Havasupai  children  are  expert  ball  tossers. 
With  three  or  four  small  melons  they  rival  the  con- 
jurers and  jugglers  of  our  vaudeville  shows  in  feats  of 
dexterity,  keeping  three  or  more  balls  in  the  air  at 
the  same  time. 

Boys  and  girls  alike  run  around  in  the  fiercest  rain, 
their  feet  and  legs  wet  and  the  few  clothes  they  have  on 
absolutely  soaked.  The  idea  of  changing  them  has 
never  seemed  to  enter  their  primitive  minds,  and  without 
care,  without  a  fire,  unless  he  chooses  to  build  one,  the 
youngster  gets  along  as  best  he  may.  It  is  a  case  of  the 
weaker  going  to  the  wall,  for  here  only  the  strong  can 
survive. 

There  is  very  little  attempt  on  the  part  of  their  parents 
to  control  them.  They  are  generally  allowed  to  do  as 
they  choose.  I  have  often  seen  a  little  girl  take  a 
cigarette  from  between  her  father's  lips,  give  it  a  few 
puffs,  and  return  it,  he  all  the  while  either  indifferent  to 
or  unconscious  of  the  act. 

The  close  proximity  of  Havasu  Creek  and  its  large 
ponds  or  reservoirs,  made  by  the  irrigation  dams, 
naturally  suggests  that  they  are  swimmers.  Observation 


224       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

confirms  this.  From  earliest  childhood  they  are  expert 
swimmers,  boys  and  girls  alike  learning  the  art  often 
before  they  can  walk.  I  have  seen  mere  babies  placed 
in  the  creek  and  ditches  by  their  parents  and  older 
brothers,  and  one  can  scarcely  say  they  are  taught  to  pad- 
dle, for  it  seems  to  come  instinctively.  There  is  not  a 
child  in  the  village  who  cannot  swim  and  dive  expertly, 
and  there  is  no  greater  fun  than  to  expend  a  dozen  nickels 
by  throwing  them  into  one  of  the  reservoirs  and  having 
the  children  dive  for  them.  Sometimes  they  can  be  in- 
duced to  bring  the  coins  up  in  their  teeth,  even  picking 
them  in  that  manner  from  the  sandy  bed  of  the  reservoir. 
They  are  as  expert  swimmers  as  the  children  of  the 
South  Seas.  No  Kanaka  going  out  to  meet  an  incoming 
steamer  could  ride  the  billows  more  daringly  than  the 
boys  and  girls  of  the  Havasu  swim  in  the  rapid  currents 
of  their  little  stream.  I  have  been  with  them  to-day  for 
a  couple  of  hours.  The  boys  dived  into  deep  water 
and  rose  and  fell  like  loons.  I  amused  myself  by  throw- 
ing a  stone  into  ten  or  more  feet  of  water,  and  four  or 
five  of  the  boys  would  dive  for  it  and  get  it  almost  as 
quickly  as  I  could  throw  it.  It  was  no  sooner  in  than  it 
was  out  again.  One  of  the  little  girls,  a  sister  of  one  of 
the  boys,  stood  watching  the  sport.  She  became  so 
interested  that,  suddenly,  without  removing  her  calico 
dress,  she  jumped  into  the  deep  place  and  enjoyed  the 
fun  with  the  rest. 

Then,  a  Havasupai  man,  riding  a  burro,  brought  the 
animal  down  into  the  stream  where  it  was  shallow  and 
had  a  gravelly  bed.  For  an  hour  he  and  the  boys 
amused  themselves  by  swimming  back  and  forth  through 
the  deep  pool,  and  every  now  and  again  one  or  another 
would  jump  on  the  creature's  back  and,  hanging  on, 


PAINTED   DESERT   REGION     225 

overbalance  him,  or  make  him  turn  a  somersault.  The 
burro  bore  it  all  good-naturedly  and  seemed  to  object 
very  little  to  the  fun :  the  only  time  he  showed  decided 
inappreciation  was  when  the  Indians  got  him  down  into 
deep  water  and  forced  his  head  under  for  too  long  a 
time. 

A  little  later  on  a  horse  was  brought,  who  entered 
into  the  sport  as  if  he  were  used  to  it  He  swam  back 
and  forth  and  took  to  the  water  as  willingly  as  a  child 
takes  candy.  The  boys  hung  on  to  his  mane,  got  on 
his  back,  his  neck,  or  hung  on  to  his  tail,  and,  to  all 
seeming,  it  was  all  the  same  to  him. 

Though  they  are  so  fond  of  the  water,  the  Havasupais 
cannot  be  called  in  some  respects  a  cleanly  preople.  Far 
from  it.  Though  they  take  the  sweat  bath  almost  as  a 
religious  rite 1  and  their  skin  is  thus  kept  clean,  there  is 
another  kind  of  cleanliness  in  which  they  are  very 
remiss.  It  would  be  unreasonable  to  expect  that  people 
living  in  the  exposed  wicker  huts  of  the  Havasupais 
could  approach  anywhere  near  the  ordinary  white  man's 
standard  of  cleanliness.  But  certainly  they  might  have 
a  higher  standard  than  they  do.  Lice  swarm  in  the 
heads  of  the  children  and  most  of  the  women.  On  the 
other  hand,  all  the  younger  men  are  particular  to  be 
cleanly  in  this  regard,  and  dress  their  hair  with  skill  and 
neatness.  Bed-bugs  abound  in  Havasu  Canyon  as  in 
no  other  place  on  earth.  They  swarm  everywhere,  and 
are  absolutely  found  in  clusters  in  the  sand,  under  the 
old  bark  of  decayed  trees,  and  in  every  conceivable 
and  inconceivable  lodging-place.  The  warm  sand  and 
the  seductive  moisture  that  obtains  during  the  major 
part  of  the  year  must  be  especially  conducive  to  their 

1  See  "  In  and  Around  the  Grand  Canyon." 
'5 


226       THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 

breeding,  for  they  are  ubiquitous.  Yet,  strange  to  say, 
I  have  never  known  of  an  instance  where  a  bed-bug  has 
been  brought  out  of  the  canyon  by  a  visitor.  Though  I 
have  been  with  the  Havasupais  scores  of  times  I  never 
detected  one  of  these  vermin  either  in  my  clothing  or 
bedding.  The  breed  seems  to  be  peculiar  to  the  warm, 
moist  air  of  the  canyon  and  to  be  unable  to  live  away 
from  it,  for  which  we  give  hearty  thanks. 

Now  and  again  scorpions  may  be  found,  and,  after  a 
rain,  I  have  seen  a  score  of  hundred-legged  worms  (per- 
fectly harmless)  rolled  up  on  the  trail  between  the 
village  and  Bridal  Veil  Falls. 

Rattlesnakes  are  not  common  anywhere  in  those  por- 
tions of  the  canyon  much  visited  by  the  Havasupais, 
but  now  and  then  one  may  be  found  on  the  trails  or 
basking  in  the  sun  on  the  rocks  near  by.  Elsewhere  in 
this  canyon  and  its  many  greater  or  lesser  tributaries 
they  are  common,  and  the  Indians  can  find  any  quantity 
if  they  are  sent  for  them.  In  all  my  years  of  wandering 
to  and  fro,  though,  I  have  not  seen  a  half-dozen  rattle- 
snakes in  Havasu  Canyon. 

Other  pests  are  mosquitoes,  gnats,  and  a  small  black 
fly  which,  in  certain  seasons,  persistently  lodges  in  the 
eye,  causing  considerable  annoyance,  and  sometimes 
distress  and  pain.  There  are  not  many  mosquitoes, 
though  at  times  they  are  troublesome  enough  to  satisfy 
one  for  their  scarcity. 

Many  of  the  women  are  expert  basket  makers,  and  in 
my  book  on  Indian  Basketry  I  have  fully  explained  their 
methods  of  work  and  the  charming  nature  of  their 
designs.  The  Havasu  Canyon  is  a  basket  maker's  para- 
dise, for  the  stream  is  lined  for  miles  with  willows 
suitable  for  this  work. 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION       227 

The  process  of  making  strands  or  splints  of  the  wil- 
lows is  a  very  simple  and  primitive  one.  Here  as  I  sit 
writing  (Sept.  14,  1901),  Chickapanagie's  squaw  has  a 
lot  of  willow  shoots  before  her.  Taking  hold  of  one  end 
of  the  splint  in  her  teeth,  she  pulls  away  the  cuticle  with 
her  fingers.  These  alone  are  her  tools,  and  it  is  astonish- 
ing the  rapidity  and  regularity  with  which  the  process  is 
accomplished. 

As  soon  as  a  girl  can  frame  her  fingers  to  the  work 
of  basket  making  she  is  required  to  begin.  It  is  very 
interesting  to  watch  the  small  children  in  their  en- 
deavors to  make  the  rougher  baskets,  and  then,  as  they 
grow  in  skill,  try  the  finer  work.  Pul-a-gas'-a-a  is  not 
more  than  eight  years  of  age,  and  yet  a  basket  —  kii-ii — 
she  brought  to  me  was  one  of  her  own  make,  and  it  now 
occupies  a  place  in  my  collection.  The  work  is  irregular 
and  crude,  but  shows  skill,  and  if  the  child  has  patience 
to  stick  to  it,  in  time  she  will  become  one  of  the  most 
accomplished  basket  makers  of  the  tribe. 

As  soon  as  possible  after  attaining  puberty  the 
Havasupai  girls  marry,  generally  between  the  ages  of 
thirteen  and  fourteen.  The  parents  themselves  urge 
these  early  marriages.  Whether  they  fear  the  loss  of 
virtue  in  their  daughters  from  evil  white  men,  or  the 
degenerate  young  men  of  their  own  tribe,  I  do  not  know, 
but  several  parents  have  told  me  that  the  sooner  their 
girls  marry,  after  they  are  marriageable,  the  better 
pleased  they  are. 

Marriage  is  generally  arranged  by  purchase.  When 
a  young  man  sets  his  affections  upon  any  particular 
girl,  he  contrives  to  show  his  preference  for  her,  and, 
as  soon  as  he  finds  that  his  attentions  are  agreeable,  he 
visits  his  fair  one's  father  or  nearest  male  relative,  and 


228       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

without  parley  begins  to  bargain  for  her  as  he  would 
for  a  horse  or  any  other  commodity.  The  standard 
price  for  a  wife  is  ten  to  twenty  dollars,  and  where  a 
trade  cannot  be  made  with  a  pony  or  blanket,  the 
money  itself  is  offered.  The  bargaining  completed, 
there  are  no  further  preliminaries  or  ceremony,  except 
that,  three  weeks  or  so  before  the  wedding,  the  bride- 
groom takes  up  his  residence  in  the  hawa  of  the 
bride's  parents.  He  is  treated  as  one  of  the  family,  and 
at  night  rolls  himself  up  in  his  blanket  and  sleeps  along- 
side his  prospective  kinsfolk  on  the  floor  of  the  domicile. 
At  the  end  of  three  weeks,  if  the  contracting  young 
folks  are  satisfied  that  their  dispositions  are  harmoni- 
ous, and  if  the  marriage  settlement  is  satisfactory,  the 
wedding  takes  place.  The  groom  takes  his  bride,  the 
old  folk  take  the  medium  of  purchase,  and  the  com- 
pany laughs  and  banters  the  young  husband  and  wife. 
The  man  takes  the  woman  to  his  hawa,  and  the  an- 
nouncement of  their  marriage  is  made  by  the  fact 
that  they  are  living  together  and  have  assumed  marital 
relationship. 

Sometimes  an  obdurate  father  or  mother  will  refuse  to 
sell  a  daughter,  and  thus  expresses  disapprobation  of  the 
suggested  match.  Occasionally,  as  among  more  civilized 
people,  the  young  couple  mournfully,  but  dutifully,  ac- 
quiesce in  the  decision  of  the  older  people,  but,  more 
often  —  even,  also,  as  white  young  people  do  —  they 
rebel,  and  take  the  decision  into  their  own  hands  by 
eloping  and  living  together.  This  ends  the  matter. 
The  ethics  of  the  tribe  are  such  that  cohabitation  once 
entered  upon,  the  parents  have  no  authority  to  declare 
the  marriage  void.  And,  as  a  further  penalty  for  his 
obdurate  obstinacy,  the  father  loses  the  ten  dollars  or 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     229 

its  equivalent  he  might  have  had  by  being  kind  and 
complaisant  to  the  desires  of  the  young  couple. 

The  Havasupais  are  polygamists,  and  believe  in 
having  as  many  wives  as  they  can  buy  and  support. 
At  the  time  of  his  death  Kohot  Navaho  had  three  wives 
living  with  him,  and  I  personally  know  of  two  others 
that  he  had  discarded  on  account  of  old  age.  When 
Hotouta,  his  oldest  son,  was  living,  his  mother  was  a 
thrust-out  member  of  Navaho's  household.  She  was 
almost  blind  and  decrepit,  and  Navaho  with  a  wave 
of  his  hand  and  ten  words  had  dismissed  her  from  his 
bed  and  board.  Hotouta  had  a  tender  heart  and  used 
to  speak  very  bitterly  about  the  injustice  of  this  custom 
which  allowed  an  old  and  helpless  wife  thus  mercilessly 
to  be  discarded. 

Shortly  before  Navaho's  death  his  oldest  wife  evi- 
dently "  ruled  the  roost,"  and  it  certainly  must  have 
been  by  other  means  than  her  physical  beauty.  And 
yet  she  was  vain  of  her  good  looks,  for,  when  I  made 
her  husband's  photograph,  she  became  my  strong  ally 
in  persuading  him  to  sit  before  the  camera,  on  condi- 
tion that  I  would  make  a  "  sun-picture "  of  her  own 
beautiful  physiognomy  and  enchanting  tout  ensemble. 
When  I  made  the  photograph,  she  secured  her  petti- 
coats between  her  legs  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make 
them  appear  like  rude  trousers,  and  when  I  commented 
upon  the  unfeminine  appearance  and  asked  her  to 
spread  out  her  skirts  in  orthodox  style,  she  boxed  my 
ears  with  a  manner  at  once  decisive,  haughty,  and  jocu- 
lar, and  bade  me  proceed  as  she  was  or  not  at  all.  The 
second  wife  was  a  meek  kind  of  a  creature,  who  seemed 
to  be  entirely  under  the  dominion  of  wife  number  one  ; 
but  the  youngest  wife,  a  buxom  woman  of  twenty-three 


230       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

or  four  summers,  evidently  knew  how  to  hold  her  own, 
for  she  once  or  twice  refused  to  obey  wife  number  one, 
though  she  readily  obeyed  the  same  request  when  given 
by  Navaho  personally.  This  woman  is  now  married  to 
my  old  host,  Waluthama. 

Marriage  with  a  white  man  is  unknown  among  the 
Havasupais,  and  unlawful  cohabitation  with  one  is  pun- 
ishable by  death. 

The  question  of  marrying  is  becoming  a  more  serious 
one  with  the  Havasupais  each  year.  While  occasion- 
ally a  man  will  marry  a  Wallapai  squaw,  there  is  a 
strong  sentiment  against  marriage  outside  of  the  tribe. 
Yet  the  number  of  the  tribe  is  so  small,  and  inter- 
marriage has  so  long  been  carried  on  between  them, 
that  it  is  no  uncommon  thing  for  a  young  man  or 
woman  to  be  debarred  from  choice  in  marriage.  At 
the  present  time  Goo-fwho's  son  can  marry  but  one  girl 
in  the  whole  tribe  without  violating  their  own  laws 
of  consanguinity,  about  which  no  people  are  more 
particular. 

The  present  Head  Chief — Kohot  —  of  the  tribe  is 
Man-a-ka-cha,  a  heavily  built  man,  who  is  popular  with 
the  younger  element.  But  he  suffers  much  in  com- 
parison with  the  former  Kohot,  Navaho,  who  died 
in  1898. 

Kohot  Navaho's  was  a  strong  face,  marked  and  fur- 
rowed with  bearing  the  cares  of  his  little  nation.  A 
firm  chin,  powerful  nose,  gentle  mouth,  courageous 
forehead,  eyes  which  were  once  fiery  as  well  as  piercing, 
but  of  late  years  had  little  of  their  primitive  fire,  —  these 
gave  a  key  to  his  character,  in  which  firmness,  courage, 
bravery,  and  gentle  tenderness  were  commingled.  His 
whole  demeanor  was  of  dignity  and  pride.  No  Euro- 


i* 

O     a* 

£>    o 

<     fc 

Q 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     231 

pean  sovereign  in  the  days  of  despotic  power  could 
have  worn  the  "  air  "  of  a  monarch  more  regally  than 
Navaho.  But  it  was  real  with  him.  His  kingship  was 
within  himself  as  well  as  in  the  affection  of  his  people. 

As  might  be  expected  with  their  powerful  physical 
development,  the  men  are  great  wrestlers,  and  often 
may  be  seen  indulging  in  friendly,  but  none  the  less 
hard  and  exhausting  bouts,  where  Havasupai  methods 
of  cross-buttocking  and  other  "  throws  "  are  tested  to  the 
utmost.  One  of  the  former  teachers  was  an  expert 
wrestler,  —  learned  doubtless  among  the  Sioux,  with 
whom  he  used  to  live  as  a  United  States  teacher,  —  and 
one  secret  of  the  influence  he  had  over  the  Hava- 
supais  was  his  ability  to  "  down  "  them  in  a  wrestling 
match.  Time  and  again  he  had  given  their  best  men 
great  "  falls,"  and  the  more  he  threw,  the  more  they 
respected  and  obeyed  him. 

As  runners  and  trailers  they  almost  equal  the  Mohaves, 
Apaches,  and  Hopis,  though,  on  the  desert,  their 
endurance  is  not  so  great  as  that  of  these  two  desert 
tribes.  As  canyon  climbers,  however,  they  surpass 
either  of  them.  The  climbing  muscles,  by  life-long 
and  constant  practice,  are  remarkably  developed,  and 
they  run  up  and  down  the  long,  wearisome,  steep  trails 
of  canyons  in  a  manner  to  excite  the  envy  of  a  college 
athlete,  and  the  astonishment  of  one  who  has,  but  a 
short  time  before,  laboriously  and  tediously  essayed  a 
brief  trip  in  which  ascending  or  descending  a  steep  trail 
was  an  essential  feature. 

As  riders  they  are  skilful  and  full  of  endurance,  but 
they  are  neither  as  graceful  nor  as  daring  as  the  Navahoes. 

Men  and  women  both  dress  the  buckskins  for  which 
the  Havasupai  is  so  famous.  Amole  root  is  macerated 


232      THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

and  beaten  up  and  down  in  a  bowl  of  water  until  a 
good  lather  and  suds  are  produced.  Then  the  operator 
takes  a  mouthful  of  the  liquid  and  squirts  it  over  the 
skin,  which  he  manipulates  and  softens,  rubs,  scrubs,  and 
pulls  with  his  ringers  and  feet,  moistening  it  again  and 
again  as  occasion  requires.  Wild  catskins  are  treated  in 
the  same  way. 

From  this  excellent  buckskin  the  men  make  mocca- 
sins for  themselves  and  their  women.  The  first  time  I 
saw  Kohot  Navaho  he  was  sitting  naked,  upon  a  blanket 
outside  his  hawa,  his  three  wives  near  by,  they  cutting 
and  preparing  peaches  for  drying,  he  busily  engaged 
making  a  pair  of  moccasins.  The  sole  is  of  two  or  three 
thicknesses  of  heavy  rawhide,  to  which  the  uppers  of 
buckskin  are  deftly  sewn,  with  strings  of  catgut  or  deer 
intestines,  the  holes  being  made  by  a  bone  awl. 

Every  summer  trading-parties  of  both  Hopis  and 
Navahoes  come  down  to  the  village,  bringing  blankets, 
ponies,  pottery,  and  the  like,  for  exchange.  In  1898 
there  were  three  separate  bands  of  Navahoes  and  two  of 
Hopis.  Trading  is  a  serious  process.  Laws  of  barter 
or  sale  are  first  made,  before  the  traders  open  their 
packs,  and  all  the  people  are  expected  to  abide  by  these 
loosely  promulgated  laws  without  question.  Then  the 
hawa  of  the  Havasupai  host  is  turned  into  a  store. 
Poles  are  suspended  in  every  possible  direction  on  which 
to  show  off  the  blankets  to  best  advantage.  A  crowd 
of  chattering  men  and  women  stand  outside,  or,  now 
and  again,  come  inside,  during  the  whole  day,  and  at 
night-time  the  men  who  have  done  business  come  in, 
squat  on  the  ground,  and  spend  the  hours  in  smoking, 
tale-telling,  and  gossip. 

There  is  difficulty  in  the  Havasupai  mind  at  trading 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     233 

for  more  than  one  thing  at  a  time.  If  you  wish  to  buy 
six  articles  from  the  same  Indian,  you  cannot  pay  a 
lump  sum  for  the  six.  Each  one  must  be  traded  and 
paid  for  separately. 

In  most  things  there  is  no  fixed  standard  of  price. 
Fictitious  values  are  placed  upon  articles  of  no  value 
whatever,  but  to  which  the  Indian  mind  has  attached 
singular  virtue  and  importance.  On  the  other  hand 
baskets,  which  require  days  to  manufacture,  taking  no 
account  of  the  time  and  arduous  labor  expended  in 
gathering  the  materials,  dyes,  etc.,  for  that  purpose,  are 
sold  at  varying  prices,  but  nearly  always  far  too  low  to 
begin  to  compensate  them  for  the  efforts  expended. 

Yet  they  are  keen  traders  in  their  way.  "  What 
can  I  get  out  of  him?"  is  the  normal  attitude  of  mind, 
and  the  price  is  made  to  correspond  to  what  the  seller 
imagines  is  the  ability  of  your  pocket. 

In  dealing  with  them,  I  adopted  the  plan  years  ago, 
as  a  fixed  rule,  from  which  I  seldom  deviate,  to  state  a 
figure  I  will  give  for  things  offered  to  me,  and  that  sum, 
no  more,  no  less,  is  what  I  will  pay.  They  soon  learn 
this,  and,  though  at  times  it  seems  to  be  a  disadvantage, 
it  gains  the  confidence  of  the  Indian  and  he  will  the 
more  readily  trade  with  me. 

I  once  excited  the  hearty  laughter  and  some  scorn 
of  the  Havasupais  by  buying  a  lot  of  old  baskets, 
blankets,  etc.,  that  they  had  long  deemed  of  no  value. 
I  was  seeking  their  older  styles  of  work  and  urged  them 
to  bring  me  "  any  old  trash  "  they  had  discarded.  The 
usual  crowd  assembled  around  my  camp,  and,  as  each 
specimen  of  dilapidation  was  half-shamefacedly  revealed 
a  shout  of  laughter  arose,  directed  partially  at  the  would- 
be  seller  for  her  temerity  in  supposing  that  such  rubbish 


234       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

could  ever  find  a  purchaser,  and  partially  at  myself  for 
being  so  foolish  as  to  want  to  carry  it  away.  But  I 
obtained  some  fine  specimens,  though  much  worn,  of 
the  workmanship  I  desired,  so  could  afford  to  be  very 
complaisant  at  the  derision  I  aroused. 

The  Havasupai  is  one  of  the  most  jolly,  frolicsome, 
and  light-hearted  of  mortals.  With  his  stomach  full  he 
has  no  cares,  and  he  goes  into  fun  with  a  zest  and  energy 
that  are  pleasing.  He  is  fond  beyond  measure  of  practi- 
cal jokes,  — when  he  is  not  the  victim,  — and  cares  very 
little  who  suffers  so  long  as  he  can  obtain  fun.  Con- 
sequently if  one  meets  with  a  misfortune,  especially  a 
laughable  one,  he  need  expect  little,  if  any,  sympathy 
in  Havasu  Canyon. 

They  are  a  singular  mixture  of  frankness  and  cunning, 
of  honor  and  deception,  of  truth  and  frankness,  of 
reliability  and  untrustworthiness.  They  will  as  deliber- 
ately and  coolly  lie  to  a  white  man  about  anything  and 
everything  —  if  it  suits  their  purpose  —  as  they  will 
tell  the  truth.  Ask  a  man  his  name  —  an  insult,  by 
the  way  —  and  he  will  lie  to  you,  even  though  you  are 
a  good  friend ;  as,  for  instance,  when,  after  being  the 
guest  of  "  Supai  Charley  "  for  several  days,  I  quietly  and 
without  seeming  intent  asked  him  his  name,  which  I 
knew  to  be  Wa-lu-tha-ma,  that  I  might  send  him  some 
gifts  I  had  promised.  For  a  few  moments  he  hesitated, 
and  then  said  "  Qu-ar-ri  "  —  a  Wallapai  name  that  has 
no  relation  to  the  Havasus  whatever.  Sinyela  was  full 
of  deception,  and  yet,  when  a  friend  told  him  he  might 
catch  one  of  his  horses  and  ride  it  so  far,  and  we  reached 
that  point  and  I  suggested  to  him  that  he  take  the  pony 
forward  and  leave  it  at  the  designated  spot  on  his 
return,  he  would  not  listen  to  it  for  a  moment. 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     235 

They  are  petty  thieves,  but  years  of  experience  have 
taught  me  that  they  could  not  be  persuaded  to  engage 
in  larceny  on  a  grander  scale.  One  of  my  first  experi- 
ences in  this  line  was  to  have  some  little  thing  taken 
from  my  camp  many  years  ago  (I  forget  now  what  it 
was).  Immediately  I  sent  for  Hotouta,  and  told  him  the 
article  must  be  returned.  In  a  few  hours  the  boy  thief 
(now  a  hang-dog  looking  buck)  came  and  brought  back 
the  article. 

On  my  last  visit,  coffee  and  candy  were  taken  from 
my  sacks  at  Wa-lu-tha-ma's  hawa,  and  three  necklaces 
which  I  had  taken  as  presents  for  some  of  the  children. 
I  spoke  angrily  to  my  host  of  his  negligence  to  protect 
my  goods  when  they  were  in  his  care,  and,  as  for  the 
necklaces,  said  if  they  were  not  returned  by  morning  I 
should  complain  to  the  agent,  and  have  the  thief  dis- 
covered and  punished.  Long  before  sunrise  in  the 
morning  the  necklaces  were  returned. 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  craft  about  some  of  them.  For 
a  long  time  Captain  Jim  and  a  few  others  had  wished  to 
have  a  road  or  trail  made  around  Hue-gli-i-wa  that  would 
make  it  less  dangerous,  and  add  much  to  the  comfort  of 
the  people,  who  lived  both  above  and  below  this  spot, 
when  they  wished  to  visit  each  other.  For  years  nothing 
was  done.  But  when,  this  year,  he  took  the  matter  up 
again,  he  did  it  in  a  round-about  way  that  won  success. 
He  urged  that  an  invitation  be  sent  to  the  leading 
horsemen  of  the  Wallapais  to  bring  their  best  horses 
and  come  and  run  races  with  them.  The  Wallapais 
accepted  the  invitation.  Now  was  Captain  Jim's  op- 
portunity for  the  display  of  his  finesse.  He  casually 
suggested  to  some  of  the  most  ardent  racers  that  the 
way  to  beat  the  Wallapais  was  to  make  a  race-track 


236       THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 

just  the  same  as  the  white  men  did,  and,  when  it  was 
completed,  train  their  horses  to  run  on  it  until  they 
were  so  familiar  with  it  that,  when  the  Wallapais 
came,  they  would  be  able  to  take  all  the  advantages 
this  additional  knowledge  would  give.  The  suggestion 
worked  like  a  charm.  It  was  Tom  Sawyer's  woodpile 
over  again.  The  young  men  waited  on  the  Kohot, 
Manakacha,  and  asked  permission  to  cut  a  road  a  mile 
long  through  the  middle  portion  of  the  canyon.  The 
only  place  where  this  could  be  done  was  just  where 
Captain  Jim  desired  the  road.  He  was  appointed  to 
see  that  the  work  was  properly  done,  and  the  first  few 
days  of  my  visit  were  enlivened  by  the  echoing  roars 
of  the  powder  explosions  that  were  set  off.  When  I 
went  down  to  the  lower  part  of  the  village  it  was  over 
the  new  and  completed  road,  a  full  mile  in  length,  and 
well  cut  out  and  graded.  Such  a  consummation  was  de- 
voutly to  be  wished,  and  while  races  are  not  an  un- 
mixed good,  one  could  tolerate  them  the  easier  for  the 
Havasupais  if  they  would  always  be  the  means  of  ac- 
complishing such  desirable  ends. 

The  Havasupais  are  far  from  being  dull  and  stupid,  as 
casual  observers  suppose.  They  can  see  the  point  of 
things  as  quickly  as  some  of  their  white  neighbors. 
For  instance ;  I  have  elsewhere,  in  my  Grand  Canyon 
book,  told  how  Silver,  Hotouta's  fine  horse,  was  given 
to  Mr.  Bass.  This  horse  has  always  been  an  object  of 
envy  to  some  of  the  young  men  of  the  tribe.  Mr.  Bass 
also  bought  from  Sinyela  a  red  mule  of  some  of  my 
exciting  experiences.  Having  once  had  possession  of 
this  mule  was  in  itself  an  overpowering  temptation  to 
those  Indians,  who,  in  the  days  of  Sinyela's  ownership, 
had  been  permitted  to  ride  it.  Consequently  Mr.  Bass 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     237 

was  often  annoyed  by  finding,  on  his  return  from  an 
absence  of  a  few  days,  that  Silver  and  the  mule,  one 
or  both,  had  been  taken  from  the  pasture  and  ridden 
by  the  Indians.  When  he  completed  his  trail  across 
the  river  and  finally  established  the  ferry  that  bears  his 
name  —  the  only  ferry,  by  the  way,  across  the  Grand 
Canyon,  and  the  only  one  on  the  Colorado  River 
between  Lee's  Ferry  and  the  one  below  the  mouth  of 
the  canyons  —  he  decided  to  swim  Silver  and  the  mule 
across  the  river  and  keep  them  for  use  on  the  north 
side.  When  this  was  dotne  Chickapanagie  was  present. 
With  a  twinkle  in  his  eye  he  said :  "  Bass  heap  sopogie 
(understand).  Havasupai  no  ride  'em  Silvern,  and  Red 
Mule  no  more." 

There  is  wide  diversity  in  the  attitude  different  mem- 
bers of  the  tribe  hold  towards  the  whites.  Some  are 
friendly,  others  openly  hostile  and  ugly,  while  others 
merely  receive  strangers  on  sufferance  as  a  necessary 
evil,  useful  for  the  purchase  of  baskets  and  such  other 
things  as  they  may  have  to  dispose  of. 

Manakacha  was  elected  to  his  kohot-ship  because 
the  majority  of  the  men  were  in  favor  of  keeping  out 
the  whites  from  Havasu  Canyon,  and  he  was  ever 
averse  to  the  white  man. 

Those,  however,  who  are  friendly,  are  good  and 
true  friends,  as  those  who  knew  Hotouta,  Spotty,  and 
others  who  are  gone  can  testify. 

Spotty  was  a  genial,  kindly  soul,  with  whom  I  had 
various  dealings.  He  was  intelligent  and  reliable  in 
his  intercourse  with  me,  though  a  medicine-man  and 
ready  to  dispense  charms,  incantations,  and  native  medi- 
cines on  the  slightest  pecuniary  provocation.  On  one 
of  my  early  trips  to  Havasu  I  negligently  overlooked 


238       THE   INDIANS    OF  THE 

taking  a  sufficient  supply  of  extra  films.  What  an  idea ! 
To  start  on  such  a  trip  and  forget  one's  camera  rolls. 
There  were  about  thirty  exposures  left  on  my  film  and 
I  was  sure  I  should  need  two  hundred  and  fifty. 
Indeed,  long  before  I  had  reached  the  Havasupai 
village  all  the  roll  was  exhausted,  and  no  more  pictures 
could  be  taken. 

I  was  disgusted  with  my  own  want  of  forethought,  and 
generally  disgruntled,  when  lo !  on  sight  of  Spotty 
the  idea  occurred  as  if  by  inspiration :  "  Why  not  send 
Spotty  for  it?"  No  sooner  suggested  mentally  than 
I  broached  the  subject.  The  round  trip  was  a  good 
fifty-five  to  sixty  miles,  and  much  of  the  road  up  Hav- 
asu  Canyon,  and  I  must  have  the  roll  within  twenty- 
four  hours.  Spotty's  eye  was  on  the  main  chance,  and 
he  at  once  expressed  his  willingness  to  go  provided 
there  was  "  enough  in  it."  "  How  much  you  give  me  ?  " 
he  inquired.  I  considered  for  a  while,  and  then  with  a 
Pecksniffian  air  of  benignant  charity  offered  him  "  two 
.  dollar !  "  "  Al  lite,  I  go !  Maybe  so  I  go  quick  you 
catch  'em  two  dollars  and  a  half?  "  he  asked.  I  studied 
over  it  awhile  before  committing  myself,  and  then  queried 
"When  you  start,  Spotty?  "  Looking  up  towards  hue- 
a-pa-a  (the  man  image)  on  the  upper  rim  of  the  near 
canyon  wall,  he  pointed.  "  I  go  when  you  see  'em 
ha-ma-si-gu-va' -te  (the  evening  star)." 

"  When  you  come  back?  " 

"  I  come  back  next  day  all  same  time  you  see  'em 
ha-la'-ha  (the  moon).  Maybe  so  I  come  back  sooner 
you  see  'em,  you  give  me  two  dollar  half?" 

A  twenty-four  hours'  ride  on  horseback  —  nearly 
sixty  miles  —  through  a  solitary  country  where  his  only 
company  would  be  coyotes,  mountain  lions,  and  other 


PAINTED   DESERT   REGION      239 

wild  animals,  and  a  large  portion  of  it  ridden  in  the 
dark  night,  for  two  dollars,  with  a  bonus  of  fifty  cents 
if  the  trip  was  made  within  twenty-four  hours,  —  it  was 
not  extravagant  pay,  so  I  cheerfully  acceded  to  his  re- 
quest for  the  bonus.  But  now  came  the  difficulty  of  fully 
explaining  to  Spotty  what  I  wanted,  and  where  he  could 
find  it.  The  tent  at  Bass  Camp  was  divided  into  five 
compartments,  —  two  small  rooms  with  canvas  walls  on 
either  side  of  a  long  room  which  ran  through  the  centre 
of  the  tent,  its  entire  width.  Making  a  plan  of  the  tent 
on  the  ground,  so,  and  N 

giving  him  the  compass 
points,  I  showed  that  my 
"all  same  white  man's 
basket  made  of  leather," 
viz.,  my  valise,  was  in  the  w 
northeast  corner  of  the 
southwest  room.  The 
film  was  in  the  valise, 
but  I  also  needed  my 
ruby  lamp,  so  I  deemed 

it;  best  for  him  to  bring  valise  and  lamp,  which  latter  was 
separate.  Off  he  went  cheerfully  and  merrily,  and  two 
hours  before  the  moon  rose  he  was  back  at  the  camp 
with  valise  and  lamp  safe  and  secure.  He  received  his 
bonus  and  we  were  both  happy. 

Like  all  other  Indians,  they  used  to  have  an  abnormal 
dread  of  the  camera. 

One  of  my  Havasupai  friends,  U-math-ka,  thus  stated 
his  reasons  for  refusing  to  be  photographed.  With 
graphic  gesture  of  horror  and  dread  he  said :  "  If  you 
make  my  picture  I  die  pretty  soon.  I  look  at  the  Sun. 
He  get  heap  hot.  I  no  breathe.  I  lie  down.  I  die !  " 


240       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

When  I  assured  him  no  possible  injury  could  result,  he 
yielded  to  my  urgent  entreaties  so  far  as  to  consent  to 
allow  me  to  make  his  sun-picture,  on  the  sole  condition, 
however,  that  I  did  not  ask  him  to  look  at  the  camera, 
or  to  cease  talking  (he  was  relating  some  Havasupai 
myths  at  the  time).  His  condition  was  what  I  desired, 
for  it  enabled  me  to  secure  the  accompanying  natural 
and  life-like  photograph. 

In  speech  the  Havasupai  tongue  is  not  very  musical 
or  agreeable.  The  voices  of  men  and  women  are  soft 
and  sweet,  as  a  rule,  and  either  when  singing  their  rude 
aboriginal  songs  or  those  that  they  have  been  taught 
at  school,  they  show  a  natural  appreciation  of  tone 
that  is  not  usual  or  common.  In  a  sentence  the  last 
syllable  of  the  last  word  is  often  a  third  higher  than  the 
rest  of  the  word.  This  gives  a  singularly  emphatic 
effect. 

The  voices  of  the  men  are  not  unpleasant,  though 
generally  they  are  thrown  too  high  —  head  tones  —  to 
be  agreeable ;  and  as  conversation  increases  they  often 
allow  their  voices  to  rise  to  an  almost  querulous  note. 
There  is  a  good  deal  of  the  chant  about  it  of  a  half- 
musical  nature. 

The  women's  voices  are  usually  sweet  and  musical, 
but  the  language  itself  does  not  lend  itself  to  the  display 
of  vocal  sweetness.  It  is  not  a  "  liquid  "  language.  It 
is  full  of  crooks  and  twists,  gutturals  and  harsh  labials, 
and  seems  to  be  ground  out  in  angles  with  a  machine- 
like  regularity.  In  some  cases,  the  women,  having 
imitated  the  querulous  tone  of  some  of  the  men,  have 
developed  a  harshness  that  is  disagreeable.  The  rapid- 
ity with  which  they  learn  new  words  is  remarkable. 
Lanoman,  one  of  the  present  policemen,  asked  me  the 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     241 

English  of  a  number  of  words,  and  all  during  the  day  I 
heard  him  repeating  them  over  to  himself,  and  seldom 
would  he  need  correction. 

The  dress  commonly  worn  by  the  women  consists  of 
a  short  skirt  and  waist,  made  of  colored  calico,  and  a 
si-dram'-a,  which  may  be  described  as  a  rude  shawl, 
two  corners  of  which  are  tied  obliquely  across  the  chest. 
When  at  work  this  is  often  slung  over  one  side  of  the 
body  so  that  one  arm  is  free.  Among  the  Havasupais 
the  si-dram-a  that  is  most  desired  and  sought  after  is 
one  made  of  four  large  bandana  handkerchiefs,  with  red 
as  the  choice  of  colors. 

The  men,  when  I  first  visited  them,  seldom  wore  any- 
thing more  than  the  breech-clout  except  in  cold  weather, 
but  as  school  influences  began  to  permeate  the  village, 
blue  overalls  and  the  cast-off  trousers  and  other  cloth- 
ing of  the  white  man  were  donned,  until  now  it  is  a 
rare  sight  to  see  a  man  clothed  in  any  other  than  the 
ordinary  fashion,  though  the  influence  of  the  outside 
Indians  is  seen  in  the  Spanish  "  cut "  of  all  home-made 
garments.  Moccasins  are  the  common  foot-gear,  though 
occasionally  a  man  or  woman  may  be  found  wearing 
"  civilized  "  shoes. 

Fish,  pork,  chicken,  all  kinds  of  birds  and  eggs,  are 
tabooed  as  food  by  the  Havasupais,  but  they  eat  rats, 
deer,  antelope,  rabbit,  prairie  dog,  and  mountain  sheep. 
They  are  especially  fond  of  beef,  and  horse  and  mule 
meat,  no  matter  how  the  animals  come  to  their  death, 
are  esteemed  luxuries.  They  will  even  eat  lizards  and 
lice. 

The  prickly  pear  and  the  fruit  of  the  amole,  or  hosh- 
kon,  are  much  favored  when  ripe.  The  latter  is  roasted 
in  the  coals  until  the  outside  is  completely  blackened. 

16 


242       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

A  hole  is  made  in  this  carbonized  surface  to  let  out  the 
steam,  and,  when  cold,  the  fruit  is  eaten  as  a  great 
delicacy.  I  have  often  eaten  and  enjoyed  it,  though  it 
has  a  sickish-sweet  vegetable  taste  that  at  first  is  some- 
what unpleasant.  The  pinion  nut,  sunflower  and  squash 
seeds  are  also  regarded  as  delicacies.  Practice  has 
made  the  Havasupais  dexterous  in  eating  these  husk- 
covered  seeds.  The  novice  finds  it  a  wearisome  task 
to  hull  them,  but  the  expert  throws  a  handful  of  seeds 
into  his  mouth,  cracks  the  shells,  and  by  skilful  manipu- 
lation eats  the  nuts  on  one  side  of  his  mouth  and 
expels  the  shells  on  the  other.  When  I  can  do  this  I 
shall  make  a  meal  on  pinion  nuts,  as  they  are  of  exquis- 
itely sweet  and  delicious  flavor. 

Sunflower  seeds,  squash  seeds,  and  a  variety  of  wild 
grass  seeds  and  corn  are  parched  by  the  women  by 
placing  them  in  saucer-shaped  baskets  —  or  ku-uV  — 
with  hot  ashes,  and  then  tossing  them  up  and  down  and 
to  and  fro  until  sufficiently  cooked.  The  seeds  are  then 
scooped  out  with  the  fingers,  and  ground  on  a  slab  of 
basaltic  rock,  by  rubbing  one  stone  over  the  other.  On 
the  occasion  of  one  of  my  visits,  when  I  was  the  guest 
of  Chickapanagie,  I  made  the  accompanying  photograph 
of  his  wife  as  she  thus  parched  corn  in  a  basket.  It 
was  the  placing  of  a  covering  of  clay  inside  the  kii-ii, 
to  prevent  its  burning,  that  led  Frank  Gushing  to  the 
belief  that  here  was  the  explanation  of  the  origin  of 
pottery.1 

Green  squash  is  cooked  after  being  hacked  into  pieces 
in  an  apparently  reckless  but  most  effective  manner. 
With  the  squash  in  one  hand,  the  woman  takes  a  large 

1  See  chapter  "  Basketry  the  Mother  of  Pottery,"  in  "^Indian  Basketry," 
by  George  Wharton  James. 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     243 

butcher  knife  in  the  other  and  strikes  indifferently  at 
the  squash,  turning  it  around  and  at  different  angles 
the  while.  In  a  few  moments  chips,  as  it  were,  begin 
to  fall  into  the  cooking  pot,  and  after  the  exterior  is  cut 
and  hacked  in  every  direction  the  cook  begins  to  slice 
it  into  the  pot  When  well  cooked,  it  is  eaten  without 
any  other  improvement  than  a  little  salt. 

Corn  and  beans  are  plentiful  with  them,  and  both  are 
as  delicious  and  tender  as  any  I  have  ever  tasted  else- 
where. 

Mescal  is  one  of  their  chief  foods.  It  is  made  by 
them  exactly  as  the  Wallapais  make  it.  That  fibrous 
portion  of  the  plant  that  cannot  be  treated  in  this 
manner  is  boiled,  and  the  drink  therefrom,  when  fresh, 
is  a  sickish-sweet  liquid,  that,  however,  might  soon 
become  agreeable.  This  liquid  is  of  a  dark  brown  color, 
and  when  boiled  for  a  long  time  becomes  a  species  of 
thin  molasses. 

The  Havasupais  know  no  process  of  fermentation  so 
far  as  I  have  been  able  to  learn,  and  the  elders  of  the 
people  long  objected  to  the  coming  of  the  white  man 
because  one  of  the  bad  things  he  brought  to  the  Indian 
was  whiskey  and  other  intoxicants. 

Quail  and  ducks  abound  in  various  parts  of  the  Havasu 
Canyon  region.  Even  to  this  day  many  of  the  latter 
are  shot,  for  sale  to  the  white  man,  with  the  arrow  in- 
stead of  the  gun.  The  Havasupais  claim  that  the  arrow 
is  far  less  liable  to  scare  away  the  flock  than  is  the  loud 
report  of  a  gun,  so  they  keep  up  their  practice  with  the 
antiquated  bow  and  arrow,  and  some  of  them  show  won- 
derful skill  in  their  use.  I  have  often  placed  a  ten-cent 
piece  in  a  notched  stick  and  enjoyed  watching  the 
young  men  as  they  fired  their  arrows  at  it  at  a  distance 


244       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

of  fifty  paces.  Their  skill  was  such  that  on  one  occa- 
sion I  lost  a  dollar  thus  within  half  an  hour. 

At  one  time  in  February  I  found  the  canyon  alive 
with  quail,  the  whirring  of  whose  wings  met  us  on  every 
hand  as  we  rode  along  from  hawa  to  hawa. 

I  am  told  there  is  no  fish  in  Havasu  Creek  above 
Mooney  Falls,  but  from  the  base  of  this  fall  on  to 
the  river  both  large  and  small  fish  are  abundant.  I 
rather  doubt  this,  as  on  the  occasion  of  my  attempt  to 
reach  Beaver  Falls  down  the  course  of  the  creek  from 
Mooney  Falls  I  saw  no  fish,  nor  signs  of  any. 

One  of  the  Havasupais  tells  me  that  mountain  sheep 
may  be  seen  on  the  northern  rim  of  the  Grand  Canyon 
in  small  bands.  When  the  snow  is  deep  upon  the  Buck- 
skin Mountains  and  the  Kaibab  Plateau  they  descend 
to  the  more  temperate  regions  of  the  canyon  where 
grass  may  be  found  in  plenty,  and  then  the  Paiuti  and 
Paieed  Indians  kill  them,  drying  the  flesh  for  later 
use.  This  they  do  regardless  of  a  territorial  law,  which 
forbids  even  an  Indian  killing  mountain  sheep  at  any 
time.  The  Indian  regards  his  as  a  prior  right,  existing 
long  before  there  was  any  territorial  legislature,  and  he 
acts  accordingly. 

Mountain  lions,  wildcats,  lynxes,  coyotes,  badgers, 
deer,  and  antelope,  with  an  occasional  mountain  sheep 
and  bear,  are  the  larger  quarry  of  the  Havasupai 
hunters.  The  deer  and  antelope  they  find  in  the  open 
grassy  glades  of  the  forests  on  the  canyon  rim  and 
reaching  towards  the  desert.  The  other  game  is 
generally  found  in  the  recesses  of  the  canyons  or  on 
the  slopes  of  the  far-away  mountains  of  Hue-han-a- 
patch-a  (the  San  Franciscos),  Hue-ga-wool-a  (Williams 
Mountain),  or  Hue-ga-da-wi-za  (Red  Butte). 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     245 

Some  of  the  skins  are  dressed  with  the  hair  on  and 
are  used  for  clothing,  as  sleeping  mats,  or  are  sold  to 
the  travellers  at  the  trains  or  traded  at  the  stores  on  the 
railway.  But  many  of  the  better  skins  are  carefully 
tanned  and  dressed  and  converted  into  buckskins,  as 
before  stated. 

This,  indeed,  is  one  of  their  staple  articles  of  trade, 
good  buckskins  fetching  as  high  as  five  dollars  and  even 
ten  dollars  cash.  I  have  several  times  seen  a  blanket 
for  which  I  had  offered  eight  dollars  or  ten  dollars 
readily  exchanged  for  a  simple  buckskin,  and  it  is  not 
an  unusual  occurrence  to  note  a  trade  where  a  fair 
Navaho  pony  is  given  for  a  large  and  well-dressed  skin. 

The  outside  Indians  that  the  Havasupais  are  familiar 
with  are  the  friendly  Wallapais,  whom  they  call  their 
cousins,  the  Hopis  and  the  Navahoes.  They  have  often 
had  wars  with  the  hated  Mohaves,  Apaches,  and  Paiutis. 
The  Chemhuevis,  Pimas,  and  Maricopas  are  their  dis- 
tant, little  known,  but  accepted  friends.  Far-away  Zuni 
is  Si-u,  and  still  farther  Acoma  is  Ac-o-ca-va,  and  though 
intercourse  with  the  people  of  these  villages  is  rare,  it 
has  always  been  friendly. 

For  the  grazing  and  watering  of  their  horses  and  other 
stock  each  head  of  a  family  has  a  certain  region  allotted 
to  him,  over  the  boundaries  of  which  he  may  not  allow 
his  stock  to  wander,  except  when  removing  them  or 
by  special  permission.  Manakacha,  the  head  Kohot, 
takes  the  range  formerly  owned  or  controlled  by  Captain 
Navaho,  the  late  Kohot,  viz.,  the  region  of  Black  Tanks. 
Rock  Jones  (the  chief  medicine-man)  has  Topocobya 
Canyon  and  the  plateau  above  as  far  as  the  other  side 
of  the  Grand  Canyon  towards  the  Mystic  Spring  Trail, 
where  begins  the  territory  of  Vesna,  Captain  Burro,  and 


246       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 

Chickapanagie.  This  includes  the  south  banks  of  the 
Grand  Canyon  towards  the  Little  Colorado  River  and  in- 
cluding the  Mystic  Spring,  the  Bright  Angel,  the  Grand 
View,  Hance's  old  and  the  Red  Canyon  Trails,  in  the 
neighborhood  of  which,  for  centuries,  the  Havasupais 
have  been  descending.  Indeed,  it  was  the  Havasupais 
who  made  the  "  Indian  Gardens  "  that  are  so  charming 
a  feature  of  the  Bright  Angel  Trail.  Sinyela  has  the 
upper  part  of  Havasu  Canyon  reaching  to  Bass's  camp 
at  the  Caves,  named  by  the  Havasupais  Wai-a-mel. 
Uta  and  Waluthama  have  the  lower  portion  of  Havasu 
Canyon,  around  to  the  head  of  Beaver  Canyon  and  all 
the  territory  on  the  south  side  as  far  as  Hack-a-tai-a  — 
the  Colorado  River. 

Thus  there  are  no  disputes  arising  over  the  wrongful 
pasturage  of  stock,  as  each  Indian  regards  himself  as 
bound  by  the  strictest  ties  of  honor  not  to  deviate  from 
these  established  and  long-observed  boundaries. 

As  I  have  before  stated,  the  Havasupais  at  one  time 
owned  the  whole  of  the  Kohonino  Forest  region  and 
also  the  trails  into  Hack-a-tai-a  (the  Grand  Canyon). 
From  time  immemorial  they  have  hunted  from  Havasu 
(Cataract)  Canyon  to  the  Little  Colorado,  and,  of 
course,  have  had  access  to  the  water  pockets,  or  rock 
tanks,  in  which  rain  water  accumulates  all  along  this  dry 
and  springless  region.  In  talking  with  one  of  the  In- 
dians recently  he  asked  me  if  the  Great  Father  at  Wash- 
ington could  do  nothing  for  him  and  his  people  so  that 
they  might  still  continue  to  use  the  water  pockets  of 
their  ancestral  hunting-ground.  He  said,  "You  sabe 
Ha-ha-poo-ha  (Rain  Tank)  and  Ha-wai-i-tha-qual-ga 
(Rowe's  Well)  and  Ha-ga-tha-wa-di-a  (the  water  hole 
near  Hance's  Camp)  and  Ha-ha-i-ga-sa-jul-ga  (Red 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION     247 

Horse  Tank),  Havasupai  use  these  water  holes  when 
him  go  hunt  deer  and  antelope.  Now  white  man  him 
come  and  say,  '  D —  you,  you  get  away.  I  Ve  got  no 
water  for  any  blanked  Indian.'  We  no  catch  'em  water, 
we  no  go  hunt,  and  we  no  go  hunt  we  no  catch  'em  deer 
and  antelope  and  jack  rabbit,  and  by-em-by  our  squaws 
and  boys  and  gels  go  heap  hungry.  Maybe  so  you 
see  'em  Great  Father  at  Washington  and  you  tell  him, 
and  ask  him  what  Havasupai  do." 


248       THE   INDIANS   OF   THE 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   HAVASUPAIS'    RELIGIOUS    DANCES   AND 
BELIEFS 

THE  Havasupais  do  not  occupy  a  high  place  in 
the  scale  of  religious  life.  They  are  very  different 
from  the  Hopis  and  Navahoes.  They  have  few  cere- 
monies, few  prayers,  and  few  ideas  connected  with  the 
world  of  spirits.  If  evil  comes  upon  them  they  seek  to 
propitiate  the  power  that  caused  it.  They  dance  and 
pray.  But  there  is  no  system,  no  recurrence  of  elabo- 
rate ceremonials  year  after  year.  Indeed,  the  only 
regular  dance  that  I  have  personally  seen  is  that  of  the 
annual  harvest,  and  that  is  occasionally  omitted.  The 
Sick  Dance,  as  its  name  implies,  is  for  the  purpose  of 
healing  the  sick. 

On  the  second  night  of  my  first  visit  to  the  Havasu- 
pais my  companions  and  I  were  invited  by  Hotouta  to 
accompany  him  to  one  of  these  harvest  thanksgiving 
dances.  It  was  a  wild  and  fantastic  scene.  Gathered 
together  in  a  circular  enclosure,  the  fence  made  of 
willow  poles  bound  together  with  withes  of  the  same 
tree,  were  between  one  hundred  and  two  hundred  Indians 
of  both  sexes  in  any  and  all  manner  of  dress  and  un- 
dress. Three  or  four  bonfires  added  to  the  weirdness 
by  throwing  peculiar  lights  and  shadows  upon  the  coun- 
tenances of  those  present.  At  times  there  was  a  silence 
which  became  almost  solemn  in  its  intensity,  and  then 


PAINTED    DESERT   REGION    249 

talking  and  chattering  broke  out  again,  as  if  the  sound 
of  their  own  voices  helped,  in  some  measure,  to  relieve 
the  painfulness  of  the  solemnity  of  this  not-very-welcome 
religious  ceremonial.  I  was  actually  gazing  upon  the 
preparations  in  progress  for  the  sacred  peach  dance. 
One  by  one  the  notables  of  the  tribe  were  pointed  out 
to  me.  There  stood  Kohot  Navaho  in  proud  solitari- 
ness, eyeing  the  preparations  with  a  moodiness  which 
became  his  serious  and  taciturn  nature.  Not  a  thing 
of  importance  passed  his  eye.  His  keen  powers  of 
observation  took  in  the  frivolity  of  certain  young  Hava- 
supai  belles  as  well  as  the  actions  of  the  Chemehuevi 
Indian  who  was  to  be  director  of  the  music  of  this  relig- 
ious festival.  By  his  side  stood  his  second  son,  who, 
in  gentle  and  mellifluous  speech  was  talking  to  those 
with  whom  he  came  in  contact.  Hotouta,  the  second 
chief,  was  by  my  side,  acting  as  guide,  chaperon,  and 
instructor  in  the  mysteries.  Here  was  his  daughter, 
a  fine  buxom  lass  of  sixteen  summers,  with  merry, 
laughing  eyes,  saucy  lips,  thick  black  hair,  cut  with  the 
usual  deep  fringe  on  her  forehead,  and  a  voice  that 
would  have  been  the  fortune  of  an  American  girl  who 
desired  a  place  on  the  operatic  stage.  Yonder  stood 
Ha-a-pat-cha,  a  fine  athletic  fellow  with  muscles  of  steel 
and  a  chest  like  that  of  an  ox,  whose  only  costume  was 
the  gee-string.  He  marched  to  and  fro  as  if  consciously 
proud  of  his  fine  figure,  came  up  at  a  call  from  Hotouta 
and  seemed  to  be  highly  pleased  with  his  introduction 
to  us,  although  there  was  an  air  of  condescension  in  his 
handshake  which  suggested  that  I  was  the  honored 
person.  Perhaps  I  was!  Quien  sabe? 

Near  by  stood  Mr.  Bass  and  a  special  commissioner 
sent  by  the  United  States  Indian  Department  to  report 


250       THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 

on  the  condition  of  the  Havasupais,  and  seek  to  gain 
their  consent  to  send  their  children  to  the  Indian  school 
at  Fort  Mohave. 

I  was  too  tired  that  night  to  stay  long.  So  after  an 
hour's  watching  I  returned  to  Hotouta's  hawa,  stretched 
myself  out  on  the  sand  —  outside  —  in  my  blankets,  and 
was  soothed  to  sleep  by  the  monotonous  chant  of  the 
dancers. 

Next  day,  in  a  burst  of  frolicsomeness  I  exclaimed  to 
my  friend,  who  was  commonly  called  Tom  by  the  whites : 

"  Hotouta,  why  you  no  let  me  dance,  all  same  Hava- 
supai?  " 

It  never  entered  my  comprehension  that  Tom  would 
regard  the  remark  with  serious  attention,  hence  my 
astonishment  can  better  be  imagined  than  described 
when  thoughtfully  he  turned  to  me  and  said: 

"  Maybe  so  !  Me  no  know !  Maybe  so  Havasupai 
no  like  'em  you  dance.  Maybe  so  they  all  same  like 
'em!  I  see  pretty  soon." 

"  Pretty  soon  "  he  came  back  with  a  cheery  "  All 
right !  Navaho  say  you  dance.  Havasupai  like  'em 
you !  " 

Here  was  a  fine  predicament !  I  had  never  danced 
a  step  in  my  life.  In  the  few  ball-rooms  I  had  visited 
I  had  been  a  "wall  flower."  But  in  this  case  I  had 
provoked  the  invitation  myself,  so,  after  a  brief  mental 
struggle,  as  gracefully  as  possible  I  accepted  the  con- 
sequences of  my  own  rash  speech. 

When  the  hour  arrived  I  placed  myself  under  the 
hands  of  Hotouta,  Yunosi  his  squaw,  and  their  daughter, 
in  order  that  I  might  be  properly  and  appropriately 
apparelled  for  the  occasion.  The  first  salutation  some- 
what daunted  me.  Tom  said,  "You  catch  'em  white 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     251 

shirt ! "  The  only  white  shirt  I  had  was  a  night 
robe  which  had  done  service  to  such  an  extent 
that  I  had  placed  it  in  my  saddlebags  when  we  left 
civilized  regions  for  the  purpose  of  wrapping  up  speci- 
mens of  rock  to  take  home.  Its  "  whiteness  "  may  have 
been  somewhat  of  a  memory.  But  I  brought  it  forth, 
and  waited  anxiously  for  Hotouta's  approval.  He  was 
delighted,  and  I  felt  reassured. 

When  it  was  donned,  and  a  pair  of  blue  overalls,  I 
was  ready  to  receive  the  painted  lines  of  sub-chieftain- 
ship on  my  face,  and  the  eagle  plume  in  my  hair. 

Then,  in  solemn  dignity,  we  started  down,  Indian  file, 
for  the  dance  ground.  At  least  Hotouta  and  I  were 
dignified,  while  behind  us  Mr.  Bass  and  the  special 
Indian  Commissioner  were  making  frantic  endeavors  to 
hold  in  their  laughter  at  the  rude  and  brutal  ( !  )  jokes 
they  were  making  at  my  expense.  We  had  not  pro- 
ceeded far  before  Hotouta  stopped  me  and  with  solemn 
face  said:  "You  dance,  you  no  laugh.  Havasupai  no 
like  'em  you  laugh !  "  I  promised  to  be  "  as  sober  as  a 
judge,"  and  not  laugh,  and  again  we  proceeded,  to  be 
stopped  once  more  by  Hotouta,  who  explained  with 
perfect  seriousness :  "  Maybe  so  you  dance  heap  harnegi. 
Havasu  squaw,  she  like  'em  you.  You  catch  'em  one 
squaw.  Then  you  dance  more  and  maybe  so  you 
catch  'em  two  squaw.  She  come,  all  same  "  (and  here 
Hotouta  illustrated  how  the  squaw  might  come  and 
separate  me  from  my  male  companion  to  right  or  left, 
and  take  my  hand  in  the  fashion  afterwards  described). 
"  She  take  your  hand,  all  same.  You  no  nip.  She  no 
like  'em  you  nip."  I  promised  not  to  "  nip,"  and  with 
satisfaction  Hotouta  now  led  the  way  to  the  dance 
ground. 


252       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

After  a  formal  introduction  to  all  the  chiefs  and  their 
approval  given  to  my  being  accepted  as  Hotouta's 
brother  and  a  fellow  chief  with  him  in  the  tribe  of  the 
Havasupais,  the  dance  began.  This  is  how  it  was 
conducted. 

The  "  evangelist "  sang  over  a  strain  of  a  new  song. 
A  dozen  or  so  of  the  leaders  took  it  up,  and  as  soon  as 
they  were  fairly  familiar  with  it,  the  others  joined  in. 
Then  the  women  took  a  hand,  literally  as  well  as  figura- 
tively, for  they  came  in  and  separated  the  men,  inter- 
locking the  fingers,  midway  between  the  first  and  second 
knuckle  joints,  standing  shoulder  to  shoulder,  and  en- 
larging the  group  until  a  complete  circle  was  formed. 
Then,  with  a  side  shuffling  motion,  moving  one  foot  to 
the  left  and  following  it  rapidly  but  rhythmically  with 
the  other,  the  while  lustily  and  seriously  singing  the 
song  they  had  just  learned,  the  dance  continued,  —  a 
dull,  monotonous,  sleep-producing  ceremony,  until  the 
onlooker  was  awakened  by  manifestations  he  little  ex- 
pected to  see  at  an  Indian  thanksgiving  dance.  Very 
often  it  occurs  that  women  of  the  tribe  are  affected  with 
a  somewhat  similar  excitement  to  that  which  seizes  the 
negro  when  he  has  "the  power."  With  a  shriek,  the 
woman  hysterically  leaps  within  the  circle  made  by 
the  dancers,  and  howls  and  shouts  and  dances  and 
jumps,  and  then,  perhaps,  throws  herself  in  a  heavy 
stupor  upon  the  ground.  Some  will  run  to  the  centre 
post,  and,  hanging  on  with  one  or  both  hands,  will 
swing  rapidly  around  until  they  fall  exhausted  to  the 
ground.  When  the  male  members  tire  of  seeing  these 
excitable  females  upon  the  ground,  they  unostentatiously 
step  up  to  the  prostrate  figures,  seize  their  long  thick 
hair,  swing  it  over  the  shoulder,  and  thus  proceed  to 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     253 

drag  the  now  exhausted  women  to  the  fires,  where 
friends  of  their  own  sex  attend  them  until  they  "  come 
to." 

And  what  did  all  this  ceremony  mean?  —  for  to  the 
Havasupais  it  was  a  ceremony,  performed  with  as  much 
dignity  as  we  perform  our  religious  services  in  church 
or  cathedral.  While  I  was  dancing  Hotouta  was  giving 
an  explanation  to  Mr.  Bass.  Each  year  this  dance  is 
performed  as  an  act  of  highest  devotion  to  gain  the 
approbation  of "  Those  Above."  The  Peach  Dance  is 
the  "  harvest  thanksgiving  "  dance  —  when  thanks  are 
made  for  the  gifts  of  the  past  and  prayers  are  offered 
for  the  needs  of  the  future. 

The  leader  of  the  singing  was  a  Chemehuevi  Indian, 

—  a   tribe   located   west   of  the   Wallapais   and   living 
mainly  on  the  California  side  of  the  Colorado  River. 

He  was  a  regular  "  evangelist  "  amongst  the  Indians, 

—  a  native  Moody,  and  gifted  enough,  musically,  to  per- 
form the  part  of  Sankey  or  Excell.     His  harangue  on  this 
occasion  was  an   unusually   fervent  oration,  especially 
cutting  to  Hotouta,  for  he  was  one  of  the  chief  objects 
of  the  "  evangelist's  "  vituperation  and  abuse.    In  fact 
had  Hotouta  been  a  white  man  he  would  have  gone  away 
saying  the    preacher  was   "  horribly  personal  and  dis- 
gracefully abusive  "  to  the  leading  members  of  his  con- 
gregation.    He  explained  that  the  reason  the  tribe  had 
lost  so  many  of  its  members   last  year  by  the  dread 
"  grip?6 "   was    because   of   their    levity.      They  had 
laughed   too   much,  gone   hunting  and   visiting  white 
men's  camps  when  they  ought  to  have  been  dancing. 
They  were  allowing  the  white  man  to  laugh  them  out 
of  the  traditions  of  their  forefathers.     Then  he  especially 
denounced  all  friendliness  to  the  whites,  and  singled  out 


254       THE   INDIANS    OF   THE 

Hotouta,  Chickapanagie,  Spotted  Tail,  and  one  or  two 
others  who  had  been  the  leaders  in  thus  countenancing 
the  whites,  and  administered  to  them  severe  rebukes. 
After  this,  referring  to  the  offer  of  the  whites  to  give 
them  farming  implements,  food,  etc.,  if  they  would  send 
their  children  to  the  Indians'  school  at  Mohave,  he 
urged  his  hearers  to  listen  to  no  such  proposals.  He 
said  in  effect :  "  Don't  send  your  children  to  the  school 
of  the  white  man.  If  you  do  they  will  grow  up  with  the 
heart  of  the  white  man,  and  the  place  of  the  Havasupai 
will  know  them  no  more.  Your  tribe  will  be  broken  up, 
and  then  the  white  man  will  come  and  take  possession 
of  your  canyon  home  where  the  stream  ever  flows  and 
sings  to  the  waving  of  willows  by  their  side.  He  will 
rob  you  of  your  corn-fields  and  of  your  peach  orchards. 
No  longer  will  the  place  where  the  bodies  of  your  an- 
cestors were  burned  be  sacred  to  you ;  your  hunting- 
grounds  are  now  all  occupied  by  him,  the  deer  and  the 
antelope  have  nearly  disappeared  before  his  rifle,  and 
he  is  hungry  to  possess  the  few  things  you  still  have 
left.  This  offer  is  a  secret  plot  against  you.  He  thinks 
if  he  cannot  drive  you  out  he  will  seduce  you  out,  and 
this  school  is  the  offer  he  makes  to  you,  so  that  he  can 
get  your  children  into  his  hands.  There  he  will  teach 
them  to  make  fun  of  you ;  to  despise  your  method  of 
living;  your  houses,  your  food,  your  dress,  your  cus- 
toms, your  dances  will  all  be  ridiculed  by  him,  and  so 
you  will  lose  the  favor  of  'Those  Above,'  and  you 
yourselves  will  soon  die  and  your  name  and  tribe  be 
forgotten."  In  other  words,  he  endeavored  to  make  it 
perfectly  clear  to  the  assembled  Havasupais  that  the 
school  proposition  was  a  white  man's  scheme  —  a  dodge 
—  to  get  their  children  away  so  that  eventually  they 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     255 

—  the  whites  —  might  claim  the  Havasu  Canyon  for 
themselves. 

Thus  he  exhorted  time  after  time,  and,  after  each  ser- 
mon, sang  out,  line  for  line,  a  new  song  that  he  desired 
them  to  learn.  At  first  he  alone  sang,  then  Navaho  and 
a  few  of  the  older  ones  took  up  the  strain,  and  soon  all 
joined  in.  Then  the  dance  began,  and  continued  with 
unabated  zeal  and  fervor  until  the  "  missioner  "  gave  the 
signal  for  rest.  Then,  after  another  harangue,  another 
song  was  learned,  another  dance  performed,  and  so  on, 
ad  libitum. 

The  state  of  mental  exaltation  or  frenzy,  not  unlike 
those  peculiar  manifestations  of  the  negroes  at  revival 
meetings,  the  Shakers,  "  having  the  power,"  etc.,  is  not 
uncommon  among  the  Havasupais.  At  the  Thapala 
Dance  I  have  seen  three  women  almost  simultaneously 
suddenly  dart  from  different  parts  of  the  dance  circle, 
and  hysterically  shrieking,  yelling,  and  singing,  foaming 
at  the  mouth,  tearing  their  hair,  falling  down  with  vio- 
lence, and  with  appalling  disregard  to  the  injury  to  their 
own  bodies  dash  against  each  other,  or  on  the  great  cen- 
tral tree  trunk,  which  stands  like  a  flagpole  in  the  centre 
of  their  dance  corral,  yield  to  this  uncontrollable  frenzy, 
and  remain  under  its  influence  for  an  hour  or  more. 
During  the  whole  time  of  their  ecstasy,  the  dance  con- 
tinued uninterruptedly,  except  when  one  of  the  frenzied 
women  dashed  towards  the  dancers  as  if  to  escape  the 
circle.  Then  the  man  nearest  by  rudely  took  her  by  the 
arms,  body,  or  shoulders  and  thrust  her,  shrieking,  back 
into  the  centre  of  the  circle. 

Yunosi  gained  her  present  name  because  of  her  occult 
powers  and  frenzied  visions.  After  Hotouta's  death  she 
would  occasionally  wake  up  and  cry  out  that  she  saw 


256       THE    INDIANS    OF   THE 

the  spirit  of  her  husband,  "  Tom,  heap  big  Supai  chief/' 
And,  strange  to  say,  in  these  exalted  moments  she  in- 
variably spoke  in  the  crude  English  her  husband  had 
taught  her  and  of  which  she  was  very  proud.  Pointing 
into  vacant  space,  with  glaring  eyes  and  excited  voice, 
she  would  declare  that  she  saw  "  Big  chief  Tom.  He 
come  back  to  see  me.  O  Tom !  Tom !  I  see  you." 
Then  turning  to  her  friends  and  others  around,  she 
would  shriekingly  ask,  "  You  no  see  ?  You  no  see  ? " 
And  thus  she  gained  her  name,  Yunosi. 

Thinking  that  perhaps  the  Havasupais  used  some 
herb,  drug,  or  intoxicant,  similar  to  opium,  hasheesh,  or 
the  stramonium  (jimson-weed)  which  the  Navahoes  use 
to  produce  similar  frenzies  and  visions,  I  took  some  of 
this,  which  they  call  smal-a-ga-to-a,  and  asked  several 
if  they  ever  used  it.  In  every  case  the  answer  was  a 
sharp  "  No !  Han-a-to-op-o-gi,"  and  one  Havasu  in- 
formed me  it  was  "  very  bad.  All  same  white  man's 
whiskey."  Indeed,  such  has  been  the  excellent  teach- 
ing they  have  received  from  their  ancients,  and  the 
tenacity  with  which  they,  as  a  people,  have  adhered 
to  it,  it  may  be  safely  affirmed  that  the  Havasupais  use 
no  noxious  drug,  or  fermented  or  intoxicating  liquor, 
and  that  they  do  not  know  any  processes  by  which  they 
can  be  made. 

The  ways  of  the  Havasupai  medicine-men  are  similar 
to  those  of  fakirs  in  all  lands  and  ages.  I  have  seen 
Rock  Jones,  after  examining  a  patient,  jump  up  and 
excitedly  exclaim :  "  I  can  see  into  your  head  and  all 
through  your  brains ;  down  your  throat  and  into  your 
stomach,  through  your  kidneys,  bladder,  and  intestines, 
and  you  are  sick,  very  sick,  very  heap  sick.  But  I  am 
a  good  medicine-man.  I  can  cure  you  sure,  I  can  cure 


5   < 

11 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     257 

you  quick.  But  you  must  promise  to  give  me  five 
dollars.  Don't  forget  I  must  have  five  dollars." 

In  one  case  with  which  I  was  familiar,  the  medicine- 
man declared  that  the  heart  of  one  sick  man  had  gone 
away  to  the  topmost  peak  of  one  of  the  canyon  walls. 
It  would  cost  several  dollars  to  charm  it  back,  but  he 
could  do  it.  Yielding  to  the  pleadings  of  the  man 
without  the  heart,  he  began  to  exercise  his  charms  and 
incantations,  and  the  next  day  he  came  in  and  declared 
he  had  seen  it  return  during  the  early  morning  hours, 
and  his  patient  would  recover.  His  prognostication 
was  correct;  the  man  was  soon  well  and  strong,  and 
paid  his  six-dollar  fee  for  having  his  heart  returned  to 
him,  with  due  gratitude  and  thankfulness. 

Another  man  who  had  been  on  the  trail  of  some 
runaway  horses  had  become  overheated  and  was  at- 
tacked severely  with  cholera  morbus.  He  was  brought 
into  the  village  nearly  dead,  his  pains  increased  by  a 
terrible  soreness  in  his  back,  caused  by  severe  vomit- 
ings. The  medicine-man  gave  him  a  large  dose  of  red 
pepper,  and,  after  sucking  the  flesh  of  his  stomach, 
bowels,  and  back,  rubbed  the  body  of  the  sick  man  with 
red  pepper,  and  then  began  his  incantations.  Soon  he 
declared  that  a  Wallapai  doctor  who  hated  the  Hava- 
supais  had  left  a  long  white  rope  on  the  trail  over 
which  the  sick  man  passed,  and  that  it  was  this  charmed 
rope  which  had  entered  his  body  and  caused  the  sick- 
ness. On  the  promise  of  a  fee  of  several  dollars,  he 
expressed  confidence  that  the  rope  could  be  success- 
fully taken  from  the  invalid,  and  that  its  removal  would 
be  followed  by  immediate  recovery.  After  a  little  time 
had  elapsed,  the  crafty  charlatan  produced  a  long  white 
rope,  which  he  said  his  skill  had  extracted.  Needless 

17 


258       THE    INDIANS    OF    THE 

to  add,  the  patient  recovered,  and  to  this  day  extols 
the  wonderful  skill  and  power  of  his  physician. 

Of  late  years  a  large  number  of  Havasupais  have 
been  carried  off  with  a  bilious  fever,  with  marked  mala- 
rial symptoms.  The  usual  indifference  in  the  earlier 
stages  of  the  disease  gives  way  later  on  to  frantic  sweat- 
ings and  appeals  to  the  medicine-man,  who  comes  and 
sings  and  seeks  by  his  incantations  to  remove  the  evil 
something  within  the  patient  that  causes  the  disease. 
If  the  sick  person  is  daring  enough  to  apply  to  the 
agency  teacher  for  medicine,  he  knows  that  he  no 
longer  need  expect  any  help  from  the  medicine-man, 
whose  curses  will  follow  him  to  the  world  of  doom.  As 
in  the  world  of  civilization  there  is  jealousy,  sharp  and 
keen,  between  the  schools  of  medicine,  so  do  the  Hava- 
supai  medicine-men  resent  any  innovations  upon  their 
time-honored  customs. 

Here,  as  elsewhere,  one  man's  skill  and  reputation  is 
oftentimes  maintained  by  pulling  down  that  of  another. 
Dr.  Tommy  used  to  be  a  fairly  successful  medicine- 
man, but  once,  during  a  fearful  epidemic  of  grippe, 
several  children  died  under  his  ministrations.  It  was 
soon  noticed  that  those  parents  whose  children  had 
been  treated  by  another  medicine-man  were  active  in 
spreading  the  report  that  "  they  believed  Dr.  Tommy 
had  killed  the  children  by  giving  them  coyote  medi- 
cine." And  this  "  tommy-rot "  killed  him  as  a  medicine- 
man, for,  though  he  was  never  brought  to  any  trial  on 
account  of  this  charge,  he  was  shunned  and  ostracized, 
and  in  very  rare  cases  is  ever  called  upon  to  exercise 
his  medical  powers. 

There  are  now  three  meciicine-men  in  the  tribe,  the 
chief  of  whom  is  Rock  Jones,  whose  Havasupai  names 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION      259 

are  suggestive.  They  are:  Pa-a-hu-ya'  and  In-ya- 
ja-al'-o,  the  former  signifying  "  black,"  the  other  "  the 
rising  sun."  At-nahl,  whose  name  means  a  "  sack,"  is  the 
second  in  importance,  and  the  youngest  is  Ma-to-ma', 
commonly  known  as  Bob.  I  have  just  asked  Lanoman 
which  is  the  best  medicine-man  of  the  three,  and  his 
reply  when  I  asked  "  Who  makes  the  sick  people  well 
the  quickest?"  was:  "All  same.  All  no  good.  All 
make  people  dead  pretty  quick !  " 

Death  is  supposed  to  be,  in  every  case,  the  departure 
of  the  spirit  from  the  body,  and  when  the  sick  person  is 
approaching  death  the  friends  and  relatives,  led  by  the 
medicine-man,  will  often  sit  around  the  invalid  and  sing 
their  petitions  to  the  departing  spirit  in  the  hope  that  it 
may  be  led  to  repent  and  return  to  the  body.  If  the 
patient  recovers,  the  medicine-man  takes  the  credit 
(and  what  pay  he  can  get)  for  the  return  of  the  spirit, 
and  goes  about  in  high  feather,  recounting  to  all  he 
meets  the  new  instance  of  his  wonderful  and  occult 
power. 

One  of  the  greatest  insults  that  can  be  offered  to  the 
friends  of  a  dead  Havasupai  is  to  refer  to  him.  The 
reason  given  to  me  for  this  is  that  whenever  a  thought 
is  sent  after  a  dead  person  it  either  prevents  his  spirit 
continuing  the  journey  to  Shi-pa-pu,  or  leads  him  to 
desire  to  return  to  earth,  neither  of  which  are  good  for 
a  Havasupai. 

One  of  the  school  teachers  informed  me  that  she  once, 
in  reconvening  the  school  after  a  holiday,  read  out  the 
name  of  a  child  that  had  recently  died.  The  moment 
the  name  was  pronounced  several  of  both  boys  and  girls 
burst  out,  some  into  a  wild  wailing  and  others  into  fierce 
and  angry  denunciations  of  the  wicked  white  woman 


260       THE    INDIANS   OF   THE 

who  had  thus  arrested  the  spirit  of  the  deceased  on  its 
journey  to  the  underworld. 

The  last  night  of  our  first  visit  the  Havasupais  had  a 
Sick  Dance.  When  one  of  their  number  is  very  sick  or 
about  to  die,  the  medicine-man  summons  the  principal 
men  and  women  of  the  camp  to  dance  around  him,  in 
the  hope  of  driving  away  the  disease.  It  so  happened 
that  during  our  visit  one  of  the  young  bucks  was  very 
sick,  and  a  dance  was  ordered  for  Saturday  evening. 
It  was  quite  a  distance  away  from  our  camp,  and  Vesna, 
whose  guest  we  were  that  night,  informed  us  that  we 
would  not  be  welcomed.  The  welcome  would  have 
been  overlooked  but  for  our  need  of  rest,  and  as  it  was 
a  mile  or  two  away,  it  was  decided  not  to  attend, 
although  we  could  hear  the  incantations  at  intervals 
during  the  night.  The  dance,  however,  was  similar  to 
such  dances  elsewhere.  The  sick  man  was  placed  in  the 
open  air  and  a  circle  formed  around  him,  while  a  slow 
and  solemn  dance  was  engaged  in  by  those  in  the  circle, 
and  all  participated  in  the  chanting  of  an  incantation. 
This  was  kept  up  during  the  entire  night,  the  voices  of 
the  singers  at  times  pitched  to  a  very  high  key.  As 
soon  as  one  in  the  circle  grew  tired,  he  dropped  out 
and  another  took  his  place,  but  the  dance  and  chant 
never  ceased.  If  a  sick  man  survives  the  noise  and  din 
and  wakefulness  of  this  until  morning,  it  is  probable  that 
his  vitality  will  carry  him  through,  and  he  will  recover. 

If  death  is  thought  to  be  certainly  near,  the  best 
clothes  of  the  wardrobe  are  brought  out  and  placed 
upon  the  dying  person.  A  woman's  best  dress  is  not 
too  good  for  her  to  die  in,  and  a  man's  finest  garments, 
even  to  the  broadcloth  cast-off  "  Prince  Albert "  re- 
ceived through  the  kindness  of  some  white  friend  in 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     261 

the  East,  is  deemed  the  only  appropriate  gear  in  which 
to  meet  the  dread  summons  to  Shi-pa-pu.  When  life  is 
extinct  the  dressed-up  body  is  wrapped  in  the  best 
blanket  the  hawa  affords,  and  is  then  ready  for  the 
period  of  wailing  and  mourning.  Relatives  and  friends 
of  the  deceased  come  and  sit  in  the  hawa,  and  as  the 
spirit  moves  them  they  raise  their  voices  in  lamentation, 
or,  singing  the  bravery,  the  daring,  the  good  deeds  of 
the  deceased,  ask  for  him  a  safe  journey  to  the  dread 
secret  places  of  the  underworld.  Nothing  can  be  more 
doleful  than  to  hear  these  sad  lamentations  in  the  dead 
of  the  night.  All  is  still,  except  the  never-silent  stream 
which  steadily  keeps  up  its  murmur  as  it  flows  over  the 
stones.  Otherwise  the  very  Angel  of  Silence  seems  to 
be  brooding  over  the  scene,  for  the  babble  of  the  creek 
merely  accentuates  the  nearly  perfect  stillness.  Sud- 
denly a  loud,  long,  minor  wail  rises  from  the  hawa  in  the 
midst  of  the  willows,  and  one  feels  that  he  can  see  the 
sound  ascend  to  the  heights  of  these  enclosing  walls, 
striking  here  and  there,  and  then  rebounding  to  oppos- 
ing walls,  until  the  canyon  is  full  of  voices,  wailing  one 
against  the  other  and  making  a  spirit  chorus  of  infinite 
sadness  and  distress.  The  imagination  unconsciously 
suggests  that  these  echoing  wails  are  the  sympathizing 
spirit  voices  of  men  and  women  —  former  inhabitants  of 
this  canyon  of  the  willows  —  who  have  come  to  weep 
with  those  who  weep  for  their  dead  loved  ones. 

There  is  no  fixed  period  for  this  wailing,  but  as  soon 
as  it  is  satisfactorily  concluded  the  body  is  tenderly 
thrown  across  the  best  horse  owned  by  the  deceased,  if 
a  man,  —  or  ridden  by  her,  if  a  woman,  —  and,  accom- 
panied by  other  animals  conveying  some  of  his  or  her 
most  desirable  treasures,  is  taken  to  the  burial  or  burn- 


262       THE    INDIANS   OF   THE 

ing  ground.  Prior  to  the  advent  of  the  white  man  the 
Havasupais  practised  cremation,  and  between  Bridal 
Veil  and  Mooney  Falls,  and  also  on  the  rim  of  the  Grand 
Canyon,  at  a  place  since  named  Crematory  Point,  the 
remains  of  scores  of  burned  bodies  of  men  and  women 
and  also  of  horses  were  recently  to  be  seen.  For  it  was 
deemed  of  the  greatest  importance  to  give  the  spirit  of 
the  deceased  the  spirit  of  his  dead  horse,  upon  which  he 
might  ride  to  the  dark  abode  of  the  underworld.  Be- 
fore it  was  burned,  the  horse  must  be  strangled,  and 
this  was  done  by  tightly  tying  a  strip  of  wet  buckskin 
around  his  neck,  and,  as  it  dried,  it  rapidly  contracted 
and  thus  strangled  the  doomed  animal.  Then  both 
human  being  and  animal  were  burned. 

But  even  this  was  not  considered  a  sufficient  offering 
to  the  powers  of  the  dead.  Returning  to  the  village,  a 
peach  tree  in  the  orchard  of  the  dead  man  was  cut 
down  that  it  might  also  be  "  dead  "  and  thus  accompany 
its  owner  to  the  spirit  world  and  give  him  its  refreshing 
fruit  there.  On  the  death  of  a  chieftain  or  great  war- 
rior, several  peach  trees  —  thapala — are  cut  down. 

Of  late  years,  however,  these  customs  of  cremation, 
strangling  of  horses,  burning  of  treasures,  and  cutting 
down  of  peach  trees  have  not  been  as  universal  as 
formerly.  Hotouta,  the  oldest  son  of  Kohot  Navaho, 
the  last  of  the  old  chiefs,  had  great  influence  with  his 
people,  and  Mr.  Bass  succeeded  in  convincing  him  of 
the  extravagant  folly  of  thus  wasting  on  the  dead,  to 
whom  the  sacrifices  were  of  no  benefit,  that  which  could 
be  of  so  much  use  to  the  living.  Consequently  his 
influence  materially  helped  to  change  the  custom  from 
cremation  to  ground  interment.  Later,  after  Hotouta's 
death,  when  several  families  had  gone  back  to  the  old 


PAINTED    DESERT    REGION     263 

habit  of  cremation,  others  exercised  their  influence 
with  the  Havasupais  to  lead  them  to  abandon  the  old 
custom.  These  endeavors  were  all  effective  to  a  large 
extent,  and,  when  Captain  Navaho,  the  last  great  Kohot 
the  Havasupais  will  ever  have,  died  in  1898,  he  was 
buried  instead  of  being  cremated.  Late  in  1897,  how- 
ever, the  son  of  Sinyela  died,  and  though  in  many 
things  Sinyela  is  one  of  the  most  progressive  of  the 
Havasupais,  he  and  his  brother  took  the  boy's  body 
across  a  horse,  tied  an  axe  to  the  corpse,  and  started  up 
the  canyon  towards  Topocobya.  When  they  returned 
the  axe  had  been  used,  the  horse  was  strangled,  and 
burned  bones  of  human  and  equine  bodies  in  a  side 
gorge  attest  the  hold  the  old  superstitions  and  customs 
still  have  upon  the  Havasupai  mind. 

And  again  in  the  summer  of  1899  —  May  or  June  — 
when  the  daughter  of  the  present  Kohot  and  wife  of 
Lanoman  (another  son  of  Sinyela)  died,  Lanoman 
felt  that  nothing  short  of  the  old  and  time-honored 
method  of  cremation  would  be  suitable  for  the  daughter 
of  the  new  chief  and  the  wife  of  so  smart  and  bright 
an  Indian  as  himself.  For  Lanoman  knew  more  Eng- 
lish, perhaps,  than  any  other  Havasupai,  and  was  af- 
flicted with  the  not  uncommon  complaint  of  great 
self-esteem  and  conceit.  Accordingly,  the  body  was 
clothed  in  the  finest  blankets  of  the  wardrobe,  and 
many  precious  things  were  taken  with  it  to  the  Havasu 
Canyon  below  Mooney  Falls.  Tenderly  the  body  was 
lowered  down  the  already  nearly  useless  ladder,  and 
after  suitable  wailing,  the  funeral  pyre  was  built,  the 
body  placed  thereupon,  more  wood  heaped  around 
and  over  the  body,  and  then  the  whole  fired.  When 
the  body  was  destroyed,  the  mourners  returned,  kicking 


264     PAINTED    DESERT    REGION 

down  the  upper  portion  of  the  ladder  as  they  did  so, 
that  no  other  Havasupai  should  be  burned  there,  and 
also  that  no  white  foot  should  again  desecrate  the 
sacred  precincts  of  the  lower  Havasu  Canyon.  Then, 
that  the  favorite  horse  of  the  woman  thus  honored  after 
her  death  should  follow  her  to  the  underworld,  it  was 
taken  to  the  edge  of  the  plateau  above,  from  which  the 
descent  to  Bridal  Veil  and  the  upper  portion  of  Mooney 
Falls  is  made,  the  wet  strip  of  buckskin  tied  around  its 
neck,  and,  as  the  cord  dried  and  tightened,  and  the 
poor  animal  began  to  reel  and  totter  in  its  death 
struggles,  it  was  given  a  push,  tumbled  over  the  edge, 
and  —  instead  of  descending  to  the  lower  canyon  at 
the  foot  of  the  Falls  where  the  burned  body  was  — 
fell  on  the  shelves  of  limestone  accretions  which  terrace 
the  canyon  at  the  side  of  the  Falls,  bounded  from  one 
terrace  to  another,  and  then,  to  the  infinite  disgust  of 
the  mourners,  lodged  there.  And  there  it  still  remains 
—  or  what  is  left  of  it,  for,  as  I  passed  by  in  July,  1899, 
though  I  could  not  see  the  animal,  the  frightful  odor  of 
the  carrion  ascended  to  the  very  heavens. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY 

On  the  Navahoes  consult  the  full  list  prepared  by  Professor 
Frederick  Webb  Hodge  in  Washington  Matthews'  "  Navaho 
Legends,"  published  by  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  for  the  American 
Folk-Lore  Society. 

COUES,  ELLIOTT. 

On  the  Trail  of  a  Spanish  Pioneer.  The  Diary  and  Itinerary  of 
Francisco  Garce's  in  his  Travels  through  Sonora,  Arizona,  and 
California.  2  vols.  Francis  P.  Harper,  New  York,  1900. 

DORSEY,  GEORGE  A.,  AND  VOTH,  H.  R. 

The  Oraibi  Soyal  Ceremony.  (Field  Columbian  Museum,  pub- 
lication 55,  Anthropological  Series,  Vol.  Ill,  No.  i.  59 pages  and 
many  plates.) 

FEWKES,  JESSE  WALTER. 

Preliminary  Account  of  an  Expedition  to  the  Pueblo  Ruins  near 
Winslow,  Arizona,  in  1896.  (In  Smithsonian  Report  for  1896. 
Pages  517  to  539.) 

Preliminary  Account  of  Archaeological  Field  Work  in  Arizona 
in  1897.  (In  Smithsonian  Report  for  1897.  Pages  601  to  603.) 

Two  Ruins  Recently  Discovered  in  the  Red  Rock  Country, 
Arizona.  (In  American  Anthropologist,  August,  1896.  Pages 
263  to  283.) 

Pueblo  Ruins  near  Flagstaff,  Arizona.  (In  American  Anthro- 
pologist, N.  s.,  Vol.  II,  1900.  Pages  422  to  450.) 

A  Suggestion  as  to  the  Meaning  of  the  Moki  Snake  Dance.  (In 
Journal  of  American  Folk-Lore,  date  unknown.  Pages  129  to 

138.) 

The  Owakulti  Altar  at  Sichomovi  Pueblo.  (In  American  An- 
thropologist, N.  s.,  Vol.  Ill,  1901.  Pages  211  to  226.) 

An  Interpretation  of  Katchina  Worship.  (In  the  Journal  of 
American  Folk-Lore,  April-June,  1901.  Pages  81  to  94.) 


266  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

The  Pueblo  Settlements  near  El  Paso,  Texas.  (In  American 
Anthropologist,  N.  s.,  Vol.  IV,  No.  i,  1902.  Pages  57  to  95.) 

The  New  Fire  Ceremony  at  Walpi.  (In  American  Anthropolo- 
gist, N.  s.,  Vol.  II,  No.  i,  1900.  Pages  80  to  138.) 

Property  Rights  in  Eagles  among  the  Hopi.  (In  American 
Anthropologist,  N.  s.,  Vol.  II,  1900.  Pages  690  to  707.) 

Tusayan  Flute  and  Snake  Ceremonies.  (In  Nineteenth  Annual 
Report  Bureau  of  American  Ethnology,  1901.  Pages  957  to 

IOII.) 

Archaeological  Expedition  to  Arizona  in  1895.  (In  Seventeenth 
Annual  Report  Bureau  of  American  Ethnology,  1898.  Pages 
520  to  744.) 

Snake  Ceremonials  at  Walpi.  (Vol.  XIV.  of  Journal  of  Ameri- 
can Ethnology  and  Archaeology.  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  Boston, 
1894.  In  this  volume  is  a  carefully  prepared  bibliography  on 
the  Snake  Dance  (see  pages  124  to  126)  which  is  too  lengthy  to 
be  reproduced  here  and  to  which  the  student  is  referred.) 

GARC£S,  FRANCISCO. 
Diary  and  Itinerary,  translated  by  Elliott  Coues.     (See  Coues.) 

HOUGH,  WALTER. 

Environmental  Interrelations  in  Arizona.  (In  American  An- 
thropologist for  May,  1898.  Pages  133  to  155.) 

JAMES,  GEORGE  WHARTON. 

In  and  Around  the  Grand  Canyon.  Little,  Brown,  &  Co.,  Bos- 
ton, Mass.,  1900. 

Indian  Basketry.     Henry  Malkan,  New  York,  1901. 

The  Havasupai  Indians  and  their  Cataract  Canyon  Home.  (In 
Good  Health,  Battle  Creek,  Mich.,  August,  1899.  Pages  446  to 
456.) 

The  Industries  of  the  Navahoes  and  Mokis.  (In  Good  Health, 
June,  1899.  Pages  315  to  322.) 

The  Pueblo  Indians  and  their  Prayer  Spring.  (In  Good 
Health,  July,  1899.  Pages  379  to  384.) 

The  Snake  Dance  of  the  Mokis.  (Two  articles  in  Scientific 
American,  New  York,  June  24,  1899,  and  September  9,  1899.) 

Scenes  of  Spanish  Occupancy  in  our  Southwest.  (In  American 
Monthly  Review  of  Reviews,  July,  1899.  Pages  51  to  59.) 

Discovery  of  Cliff  Dwellings  in  the  Southwest.  (In  Scientific 
American,  New  York,  January  20,  1900.) 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  267 

What  I  Saw  at  the  Snake  Dance.    (In  Wide  World  Magazine 
London,  January,  1900.     Pages  264  to  274.) 

Harvest  Festivals    of  Some  of  our  Southwestern  Aborigines. 
(In  Good  Health,  October,  1899.     Pages  583  to  589.) 

Moki  Fashions   and  Customs.     (In   Good   Health,  November, 
1899.     Pages  641  to  647). 

Types  of  Female  Beauty  among  the  Indians  of  the  Southwest. 
(In  Overland  Monthly,  San  Francisco,  Cal.,  March,  1900.     Pages, 
195  to  209). 

Some  Indian  Women.     (In  New  York  Tribune  Supplement, 
April  8,  1900.) 

The  Fire  Dance  of  the  Navahoes.     (In  Wide  World  Magazine, 
London,  September,  1900.     Pages  516  to  523.) 

The  Hopi  Basket  Dance.    ( In  New  York  Tribune  Supplement.) 

Indian  Madonnas.     (In  New  York  Tribune  Supplement,  Decem- 
ber 23,  1900.) 

Indian   Pottery.    (In   House   Beautiful,    Chicago,  April,   1901. 
Pages  235  to  243.) 

Down  the  Topocobya  Trail.    (In  Wide  World  Magazine,  Lon- 
don, April,  1901.     Pages  75  to  80.) 

Indian  Basketry.     (In  Outing,  New  York,  May,  1901.     Pages 
177  to  1 86.) 

The  Storming  of  Awatobi.    (In  the  Chautauquan,  Cleveland, 
O.,  August,  1901.    Pages  497  to  501.) 

The  Art   of    Indian   Basketry.    (In  the  Southern  Workman, 
Hampton,  Va.,  August,  1901.    Pages  439  to  448.) 

Indian  Basketry  in  House  Decoration.    (In  the  Chautauquan, 
Cleveland,  O.,  September,  1901.    Pages  619  to  624.) 

Moki  and  Navaho    Indian   Sports.    (In    Outing,   New  York, 
October,  1901.     Pages  10  to  15.) 

Indian   Pottery.     (In   Outing,   New  York.     November,    1901. 
Pages  1 54  to  161.) 

The  Hopi  Indians  of  Arizona.     (In  Southern  Workman,  Hamp- 
ton, Va.,  December,  1901.    Pages  677  to  683.) 

The  Collecting  of  Indian  Baskets.     (In  the  Literary  Collector, 
New  York,  January,  1902.     Pages  103  to  109.) 

Some  Indian  Dishes.     (In  American  Kitchen  Magazine,  Boston, 
Mass.,  January,  1902.     Pages  129  to  133  and  frontispiece.) 

The  Indians  and  their  Baskets.     (In  Four  Track  News,  New 
York,  February,  1902.    Pages  77  to  79.) 


268  BIBLIOGRAPHY 

Indian  Blanketry.  (In  Outing,  New  York,  March,  1902.  Pages 
684  to  693.) 

LUMMIS,  CHARLES  F. 

Across  the  Continent.     (Scribner's.) 

A  New  Mexico  David,  and  Other  Stories.     (Scribner's.) 

The  Land  of  Poco  Tiempo. 

The  Man  that  Married  the  Moon. 

All  the  volumes  of  "  Land  of  Sunshine,"  now  "  Out  West,"  of 
which  he  is  Editor,  published  in  Los  Angeles,  Cal. 

MATTHEWS,  WASHINGTON. 

Navaho  Legends.  (The  American  Folk-Lore  Society.  In  this 
volume  Professor  F.  W.  Hodge  has  a  full  bibliography  on  the 
Navahoes.) 

MlNDELEFF,  COSMOS. 

Navaho  Houses.  (In  Seventeenth  Annual  Report  Bureau  of 
American  Ethnology,  1898.  Pages  475  to  517.) 

PEPPER,  GEORGE  H. 

The  Navaho  Indians.  An  Ethnological  Study.  (In  Southern 
Workman,  Hampton,  Va.,  November,  1900.  7  pages.) 

The  Making  of  a  Navaho  Blanket.  (In  Everybody's  Magazine, 
New  York,  January,  1902.  Pages  33  to  43.) 

POWELL,  J.  W. 

The  Lessons  of  Folk-Lore.  (In  American  Anthropologist,  N.  S., 
Vol.  II,  No.  i,  1900.  Pages  i  to  36.) 

VOTH,  H.  R.,  AND  DORSEY,  GEORGE  A. 

The  Oraibi  Soyal  Ceremony.     (See  Dorsey.) 


AN  IMPORTANT  NEW   BOOK  DESCRIBING   THE  MOST 
STUPENDOUS  SCENE  ON  THE  AMERICAN  CONTINENT 


In  and  Around  the  Grand  Canyon 
of  the  Colorado  River  in  Arizona 

By    GEORGE    WHARTON    JAMES 

Illustrated    with    twenty-three    full-page   plates    and    seventy- 
seven  pictures  in  the  text     •     8vo     •     Cloth     •     Price,  $2.50 


CROSSING   THE  COLORADO   TO   THE   SHINUMO. 

THE    volume,    crowded   with    pictures  of  the  marvels  and 
beauties  of  the  Canyon,  is  of  absorbing  interest.      Dramatic 
narratives  of  h  irbreadth  escapes  and  thrilling  adventures, 
stories   of  Indians,  their   legends   and   customs,    and    Mr. 
James's   own  perilous  experiences,  give  a  wonderful  personal   interest 
in  these  pages  of  graphic  description  of  the  most  stupendous  natural 
wonder  on  the   American   Continent.  —  Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 


IN  &  AROUND  THE  GRAND  CANYON 

A  veritable  storehouse  of  wonders.  —  Boston  Advertiser. 

There  is  a  ring  of  actuality  about  this  book.  —  Outing,  New 
York. 

The  Grand  Canyon  has  never  before  received  such  an 
exposition  either  with  pen  or  camera.  —  Literary  World. 

He  has  told  his  story  in  so  fascinating  a  manner  that  one 
feels  almost  within  sight  and  sound  of  the  great  canyon. 

—  San  Francisco   Bulletin. 

The  most  thorough  description  of  the  Grand  Canyon  of 
the  Colorado  and  its  surroundings  to  be  found  anywhere. 

—  Chicago    Tribune. 

He  has  not  been  content  to  describe  the  wonders  in  his 
own  words,  but  from  historical  records,  from  the  notes  of 
explorers  and  discoverers,  and  from  the  accounts  of  Indian 
natives,  white  hunters,  miners,  and  guides,  he  has  quoted 
freely  wherever  he  could  find  matter  of  interest  and  value. 
-  Argonaut,  San  Francisco. 

An  illustrated  work  of  which  too  much  can  scarcely  be  said 
in  praise.  The  Grand  Canyon  is  one  of  the  world's  won- 
ders, and  this  volume  is  the  most  thorough  and  satisfying 
presentation  of  its  many  rugged  attractions  thus  far  offered. 

—  San   Francisco   Chronicle. 

There  is  probably  no  man  in  the  country  who  is  better 
qualified  for  the  writing  of  such  a  book  than  Professor 
James.  .  .  .  Too  much  cannot  be  said  in  praise  of  his 
work.  —  Arizona  Daily  Journal- Miner,  Prescott,  Arizona. 

Will  be  the  standard  with  reference  to  the  main  features  — 
historic,  scenic,  and  scientific  —  of  the  Great  Canyon  of  the 
Colorado.  .  .  .  Legend  and  tradition  are  drawn  upon  for  the 
dramatic  effect  and  local  color,  so  that  in  many  respects 
the  book  possesses  a  charm  peculiarly  its  own.  .  .  .  One  of 
the  typical  books  of  the  great  West. —  Brooklyn  Standard  Union. 


IN  &  AROUND  THE  GRAND  CANYON 

CHAPTER  CONTENTS 

1.  THE  COLORADO  RIVER  AND  ITS  CANYONS. 
II.  EXPLORATIONS  FROM  THE  TIME  OF  THE  SPANIARDS  (154.0) 
TO  MAJOR  J.  W.  POWELL  (1869). 

III.  EXPLORATIONS  BY  MAJOR  J.  W.  POWELL  (1869-72). 

IV.  LATER  EXPLORATIONS. 

V.  FLAGSTAFF,  THE  SAN  FRANCISCO  MOUNTAINS,  THE  CLIFF  AND 

CAVE  DWELLINGS,  AND  THE  DEAD  VOLCANOES. 
VI.   FROM  THE  SANTA  FE  RAILWAY  TO  THE  CANYON  BY  STAGE. 
VII.   To  THE  CANYON  BY  RAILWAY,  AND  A  FEW  PRACTICAL  SUG- 
GESTIONS TO  THE  TOURIST. 
VIII.  FIRST  IMPRESSIONS. 
IX.  WHAT  DOES  ONE  SEE? 
X.  ON  THE  RIM. 
XI.  THE  GRAND  VIEW  TRAIL. 
XII.  THE  BRIGHT  ANGEL  TRAIL. 

XIII.  Two   DAYS*    HUNT   FOR  A  BOAT  IN  A  SIDE  GORGE  NEAR 

THE  BRIGHT  ANGEL  TRAIL. 

XIV.  THE  MYSTIC  SPRING  TRAIL. 

XV.  THREE  DAYS  OF  EXPLORING  IN  TRAIL  CANYON  WITH  THE 

WRONG  COMPANION. 

XVI.  MR.  W.  W.  BASS  AND  HIS  CANYON  EXPERIENCES. 
XVII.  THE  SHINUMO  AND  ITS  ANCIENT  INHABITANTS. 
XVIII.  PEACE  SPRINGS  TRAIL. 
XIX.  LEE'S  FERRY  AND  THE  JOURNEY  THITHER. 
XX.  JOHN  D.  LEE  AND  THE  MOUNTAIN  MEADOW  MASSACRE. 
XXI.  UP  AND  DOWN  GLEN  AND  MARBLE  CANYONS. 
XXII.  THE  OLD  HOPI  TRAIL. 

XXIII.  THE  TANNER-FRENCH  TRAIL. 

XXIV.  THE  RED  CANYON  AND  OLD  TRAILS. 
XXV.  GRAND  CANYON  FOREST  RESERVE. 

XXVI.  THE  TOPOCOBYA  TRAIL  AND  HAVASU  (CATARACT)  CANYON. 
XXVII.  THE  HAVASUPAI  INDIANS  AND  THEIR  CANYON  HOME. 
XXVIII.   HAVASU  (CATARACT)   CANYON   AND  ITS  WATERFALLS  AND 

LIMESTONE  CAVES. 

XXIX.  AN  ADVENTURE  IN  BEAVER  CANYON. 
XXX.  THE  GEOLOGY  OF  THE  GRAND  CANYON. 
XXXI.  BOTANY  OF  THE  GRAND  CANYON. 

XXXII.  RELIGIOUS  AND  OTHER  IMPRESSIONS  IN  THE  GRAND  CANYON. 
XXXIII.   PHOTOGRAPHING  THE  GRAND  CANYON. 
BIBLIOGRAPHY  OF  THE  GRAND  CANYON  REGION. ^^ 

LITTLE,   BROWN,   &  CO.,  Publishers 

254  WASHINGTON   STREET,  BOSTON 


